Quite An Unusual Family
by BloodyRose1979
Summary: It had seemed like such a simple case. What Sherlock didn't expect was to find such an interesting child along the way. A child so much like himself. Intrigued, Sherlock lets the child stay with John and him so he can observe him and possibly train him to follow in his footsteps. He never expected him to become like a son to him. Slight implied Johnlock.
1. The Usual Murder

**Author Note: Here's a story that expands on my Quite Unusual oneshot story. So here's how L became Sherlock and John's adopted son and just how he might impact the Sherlock series.**

 **I will try my best to keep everyone in character but some are very complex, especially Sherlock. I will work to improve as I go however.**

 **Disclaimer:** **Death Note and its characters belong to Tsugumi Ohba while Sherlock and its characters belong to Arthur Conan Doyle, Mark Gatiss and Steven Mofatt**

Chapter 1: The Usual Murder

The small dead-end alleyway was a world all its own as rain pattered against the cobblestone streets, drowning out the sounds of passing cars and casting a blurry cloak over the outside world with its mist. The small bundle in said alley that most passed by without seeing stirred slightly, trying to burrow itself further into the semi-dry corner. Small hands pulled a ripped blanket tighter over unruly bangs, trying to cover as much of the shivering body they belonged to as possible. Dark, piercing eyes peered out from the makeshift shelter, attempting to see through the heavy mist and warily observe the few passing stragglers that were seeking shelter of their own. The eyes finally drifted close when there were no further stragglers. Sleep was hard coming though as the small body was wracked with shivers.

Loud yelling suddenly pierced through the thundering rain, prompting those eyes to open once more. Two men spilled into the alleyway amid a violent scuffle that proceeded to get more and more heated. Harsh words were hurled back and forth though the child heard nothing distinguishable. Those dark eyes watched the slightly blurry figures shove and pummel each other against the harsh brick walls.

The shared hostility reached its peak when a deafening, echoing bang filled the alleyway. One man staggered back against the wall then slid down to the ground, no doubt bleeding heavily from a gunshot wound. The shooter stared down at the man without saying anything. A sudden passing car lit up the alleyway, bathing the shooter's face in temporary light. The child's eyes instinctively roamed over the man's face, taking in every little detail. The sound of the car seemed to snap the man from his thoughts. He stuffed the gun away then fled the alleyway, abandoning the other man on the ground.

There was dead silence now; not even the lessening rain really registered in the child's mind. The child's eyes drifted down to where the other man was still slumped over. A fierce curiosity seized the child, prompting him to shakily rise to his feet. He stumbled over towards the body, making sure to avoid the growing pool of blood. He stared down at the man. The still chest and blank eyes told him that the man had passed. The once crisp, now blood soaked, suit told him that the man was most likely a businessman of some sort. Morbid fascination kept him staring for a long while, taking in other little details about the man.

The sound of sirens startled him, making him reel back, right into the pool of blood. The feel of the still semi-warm liquid on his barefoot distracted him for a second. He snapped back quickly though. He pulled the blanket tighter around his body then fled the alleyway, going the opposite way the police were coming. He didn't make it far before exhaustion hit. He tuckered down in another alley not too far away, breathing heavily. He rested there a few minutes. A sudden yell down the street made him tense.

"Sherlock! Where are you going?"

Whoever was yelling was getting closer. He shuffled back into the corner, making himself as small as possible, as the pounding of feet got closer. A tall figure appeared at the entrance of the alleyway, looking around hurriedly. The man took a step inside and turned intense pale blue eyes on him, taking in every inch of him in a way that was familiar to the boy. The man's lips pulled back into a somewhat smug smirk.

"Found you."

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"I keep telling you that it was the sister in law."

"And I'm telling you that doesn't make sense. Why would she kill him?" Lestrade snapped.

"UGH!" Sherlock groaned as he paused in his agitated pacing. "It doesn't make sense to you because you can't understand the obvious."

"Sherlock…" John chided softly. The whole ordeal was interrupted as Donovan entered the office. She glared briefly at Sherlock before speaking to Lestrade.

"Suspected shooting near King's Road." Lestrade got up to follow her. He hesitated then turned to Sherlock.

"I'll send someone to pick up the sister later." Sherlock smirked at him but said nothing at John's sharp look.

"We'll come along and help." Sherlock said instead, moving through the door before Lestrade could protest. Lestrade stared after him then sighed, suddenly looking much older.

"Sorry Lestrade." John said as he followed after his irritating flat mate.

The crime scene looked simple enough; nothing out of the ordinary that would really warrant Sherlock Holmes' attention. There was a man lying dead from a bullet wound to the abdomen with signs of a scuffle happening before the gunshot. Sherlock crouched next to the body and quickly scanned every inch of it. He stood up and turned towards the waiting onlookers. He paused for effect, letting them dwell in anticipation.

"Businessman. 38 years old. Married 3 years or so. Evidence of fight starts a little away from the entrance of alley, which means he wasn't suddenly pulled into it. Not a random assault or robbery. Started off as an altercation then, didn't get physical until the killer and he reached the alley. It was someone he knew. Look into people he knows, specifically his co-workers. It will be someone who…"

"Sherlock?" John inquired worriedly, seeing the man trail off suddenly. The man was too busy staring at the ground to pay him any mind. He crouched to look closer at a small bloody blotch upon the concrete. He scrutinized it for a second then looked towards the entrance. Upon closer inspection, he saw there were several similar blotches that were nearly washed away by the rain.

Footprints he realized…exceptionally small ones. A child's then. The victim doesn't have any children. A child of the killer? No, even if the killer did have children, there was very little chance he'd have one with him when the murder happened. What would a child be doing here then if it wasn't the child of either the victim or the killer?

Ah! A witness!

He quickly followed the footprints, hearing but ignoring John's question about where he was going. He knew John would follow anyway.

The footprints were harder to follow out on the street, where they were further exposed to rain but he still managed. They led to another alley not too far from where the murder took place. He entered the alley and instantly spotted the child huddling in the corner. A boy of around 8 or 9 years of age. Homeless and malnourished. Dark hair hidden under a ripped, hole-ridden blanket. The boy was staring at him with the darkest eyes Sherlock had ever seen.

"Found you." The boy said nothing. He just stared with piercing eyes that struck a chord in Sherlock…he's seen eyes like those before. It took him a second to realize where.

 _Ah,_ he thought, _they're the same as mine._

 **Author Note: I love how this turned out. It ended up so much better than I expected.**

 **I just put a random London street name. If anyone knows a London street that has dead-end alleyways please tell me and I'll add it in.**

 **Please Review.**


	2. The Unusual Child

**Author Note: Sorry for the long delay. I had a serious case of writer's block and it just stopped on Thursday but I hadn't been able to find the time to type it up until today.**

 **Disclaimer:** **Death Note and its characters belong to Tsugumi Ohba while Sherlock and its characters belong to Arthur Conan Doyle, Mark Gatiss and Steven Mofatt**

Chapter 2: The Unusual Child

The two continued to silently stare at each other. The air was tense with something neither recognized nor understood. The moment lasted only a minute though.

"Sherlock!" John yelled, finally catching up, gaining the attention of both.

"Why'd you run off like that?" He didn't need Sherlock to answer though once he spotted the boy.

"Oh."

The sight of the pitiful child brought out the doctor in him. John's eyes roamed over the boy worriedly, taking in his malnourished state and searching for injuries. He wanted to move closer to get a better look but he didn't attempt to; he knew that many children that grew up on the streets were wary of strangers, and with good reason. There was very little chance he would feel comfortable with John's presence.

The child looked uninjured but there was no way of knowing for sure from this distance. He looked into the child's face and found himself seized by his powerful gaze. Those dark eyes were boring into him. How could John explain them really? They were intense and piercing but also heavy with intelligence and awareness; they reminded him of a certain consulting detective. They were sort of lifeless as well but that was expected of anyone that saw the darker, unforgiving side of life. He had seen that same lifelessness in his own eyes after the war. Lestrade's sudden arrival broke through his thoughts.

"Who's this, Sherlock?" Lestrade asked, staring at the child.

"This, Inspector, is a witness." Sherlock announced.

"You mean he witnessed the murder?" Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"No, he witnessed a carjacking." Sherlock replied sarcastically. "Of course he witnessed the murder." Lestrade scowled at him but didn't comment.

"So we need to ask him about the murderer?" John didn't look very sure of the idea.

"Not necessarily, John. Did you forget that I'm here?" John sighed as Sherlock's massive ego reared its head. "However, a first hand account of the murder might actually satisfy those idiots at Scotland Yard."

"Watch it." Lestrade warned but he was used to Sherlock's insults.

The child had been watching them this whole time. His eyes roamed over each one but the tall man with the dark hair was like a magnet with his high energy and arrogant speech; no matter what his eyes always ended up back on him. They didn't seem to mean him any harm but he knew that he would most likely end up in an orphanage if he went with them. He shuddered at the thought. His eyes darted down to where there was a small gap between the men that he could just fit through. Those pale eyes were on him the instant the thought crossed his mind, locking him in place.

"I wouldn't recommend that. Waste of energy and effort." He said with a sudden serious tone, which made his voice all the deeper. The man grinned suddenly while placing a hand on the shoulder of the man next to him.

"John here has quick reflexes." John was confused at first but understood quickly enough and stood alert and ready just in case the child ran anyway.

"You're best option is to come with us. I assure you a couple of questions, though annoying, won't harm you." He stared at the child, waiting, and the child stared right back. Neither looked away for what felt like a long time. Finally, the boy stood up on weak legs and slowly shuffled their way. Sherlock grinned but said nothing more.

John watched, amazed at how easily Sherlock had spoken and convinced the boy; he never seemed to have any patience for children before. The boy was clearly different though. He showed no signs of trauma, or at least none that seemed to stem from the murder he supposedly witnessed. It made John wonder what else the child had witnessed and at the same time he didn't wish to know.

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Sherlock paced irritably outside the room where the boy was being questioned. Someone thought it best to send Donovan in to do the questioning, probably under the stupid assumption that the boy would warm up to her because she was a woman. Those idiots didn't seem to understand that not every woman fit the maternal figure that some abandoned or neglected children were drawn to. Donovan definitely didn't. She was far too harsh and impatient for this. She had been in there for a while and the boy still hadn't said a word.

"Let me speak with him." Sherlock insisted again, stopping to face Lestrade. The man hesitated for a few seconds but then sighed.

"Alright, Sherlock but only for a few minutes." Sherlock wasted no time and yanked the door open without knocking. Donovan was just as happy as always to see him when he entered the room.

"What freak?" She snapped. Sudden movement from the boy caught his eye but he kept his focus on Donovan for the moment.

"Lestrade allowed me some time with him. If you would…" He gestured to the door. She glared at him but still stood up with a scoff.

"Try not to scare him."

He eagerly shut the door behind her. He turned to the boy. He was already watching him just like back in the alley. Sherlock slowly sat down in the recently abandoned chair. He leaned forward and overlapped his fingers in front of his face. He stared over them at the boy, taking in the little details he was unable to see before. The boy sat hunched forward in his chair, as if trying to make himself seem smaller or maybe because his body had grown accustomed to the position from many days and nights huddled up to protect from the cold and rain. Those wider than normal eyes peered at him through messy bangs. His posture implied nervousness but his eyes showed interest and curiosity.

"Freak." He suddenly said. The boy flinched, reacting the same as earlier.

"I see…you've been called that before." The boy's eyes remained glued to his but his head lowered further, nearly blocking his sight with those unruly bangs.

"Was it because of your appearance? Or because of this?" He smoothly tapped a finger against his own temple. The child said nothing but his eyes darted down, finally breaking the intense eye contact.

"Is that why you won't talk? Afraid to show how smart you are?" No response but he knew he was spot on.

"Such a waste of effort." Those eyes looked up again.

"No matter how hard you try, you won't be able to hide it forever. You should use it then… as John would say, help someone and do some good." He shrugged. "I do what I do so my brain won't rot from boredom." The child's eyes bored into him again but still he said nothing. Sherlock knew he was just about to crack though so he pushed on.

"I don't need your account of what happened to solve this case but I'm willing to let you help. Maybe then you'll understand what you should do." And there it was. The shift in those eyes was encouraging enough.

"So…let's start again, shall we?" He leaned forward. "What is your name?" The boy paused but finally spoke with a weak monotone voice.

"L…L Lawliet." Sherlock grinned at his victory.

"Sherlock Holmes. Now, how about you tell me what happened in that alleyway."

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The culprit was quickly identified and arrested. Sherlock led the police in the right direction and L verified the killer's identity. The small victory clearly sparked something in the boy. Sherlock saw the boy's eyes shine as he watched the man being taken away. He clearly felt accomplished in his small contribution. This was something he'd no doubt want to do again.

The boy shyly peeked up at him through his bangs and smiled. It was a small, insecure smile and yet it stirred something in him, something he wasn't going to admit or even acknowledge. He would admit the intrigue he was feeling though. It was rare to find someone so intelligent at such a young age. His brother and himself were the only ones he knew of. He was curious to see just how intelligent he really was. It also wouldn't hurt to help him hone his deduction skills. He wasn't sure if he was cut out to be a mentor but it would definitely prove to be an interesting pastime in any case.

"We'll have to bring him to one of the orphanages?" Lestrade said, staring in the direction of the waiting room where the boy was now sitting.

"Don't be ridiculous. I'll take him in." Sherlock announced. Both men looked at him as if he had lost his mind.

"You'll look after him?" Lestrade asked slowly, as if he thought he had heard him wrong.

"Of course not. However, I'm sure John is more than capable to do so." He glanced over at the man, ready for the protests.

"What? No, Sherlock. You can't just dump a kid onto me. Look after him yourself if you're so insistent on taking him in." Sherlock smirked.

"Why, John. I never knew you saw me fit to raise a child by myself." John stared at him silently then realization struck.

"Damn it." He let out a heavy sigh. "Fine. There's no way I'd let him suffer the fate of being in your care." Sherlock fixed his scarf, preparing to leave.

"Now I believe you are exaggerating."

"You know I'm not, Sherlock. You barely feed yourself." He pointed out. Sherlock just looked away with a roll of his eyes.

Lestrade watched the two, still unsure whether this was a good idea. He knew there was little chance of changing Sherlock's mind once he was set on something though. He walked off with a sigh, thinking how he was going to explain this to the child.

John remained at Sherlock's side as they waited for Lestrade to tell the child of what was about to become of him. He was still shocked and baffled by the whole thing himself.

"Are we actually going to take this child in?"

"Yes we are." Sherlock said with certainty, typing rapidly on his phone.

"Why? I doubt we are the best option for him. Maybe we should do what Lestrade suggested." Sherlock tensed beside him then looked his way. John was taken aback by the hard, steeled look in his eyes. Sherlock looked away a second later and relaxed but his voice was still firm and tense.

"Yes John. Let's send him to an orphanage where he'll be ostracized for knowing things he shouldn't but does just from observing."

"You don't know that." John tried to reason, still a bit on edge from the unexpected shift in the man's demeanor.

"Oh, but I do and clearly he does as well. Otherwise he would have gone there on his own. He's certainly clever enough." John had nothing to say to that. The man's tone softened suddenly.

"Trust me, John. Despite my lack of parental skills, I am the person he needs right now. I'm someone who can understand him." He stopped almost abruptly after that. John understood why. All Sherlock's talk of sentiment showed that he didn't think highly of it and he had been really close to showing sentiment just then if he hadn't already. No doubt he'd pretend this whole conversation never happened and John would follow along like always.

He decided not to bring up the orphanage again. He'd just have to do the best he could with the boy. He'd always have Mrs. Hudson to help. The thought of the woman made him realize something.

"Oh God. What is Mrs. Hudson going to think?" John exclaimed, lifting the still tense atmosphere.

"Don't worry, John. She'll be ecstatic." Sherlock said, looking bored and unconcerned.

"That's what I'm worried about." John mumbled to himself with a sigh.

 **Author Note:** **I hope I kept Sherlock in character.** **I was worried that Sherlock was too sentimental; its still early in the series so it would be a little strange of him at this point. I'm sure someone will tell me if I failed with his character but I hope it's not too distracting.**

 **Please Review.**


	3. The Unusual Situation

**Author Note: Sad that I didn't get many reviews last chapter but I'll keep up the story anyway.**

 **I meant to do this before but I forgot:**

 **Warning: Spoilers for Sherlock series in later chapters. Series 1 and 2 at least.**

 **Disclaimer:** **Death Note and its characters belong to Tsugumi Ohba while Sherlock and its characters belong to Arthur Conan Doyle, Mark Gatiss and Steven Mofatt**

Chapter 3: The Unusual Situation

Mrs. Hudson was ecstatic…too ecstatic. She beamed at the small child the moment she heard the news. L had followed them easily enough up to that point but was now attempting to retreat from the enthusiastic woman. Sherlock didn't let him though. He stepped behind him, blocking his retreat. He pressed a hand into the boy's back and pushed him forward once more, silently reassuring him that Mrs. Hudson meant him no harm.

"Ah! You're adopting already." She exclaimed happily. "A little soon I must say, but I'm happy for you two." John sighed.

"Mrs. Hudson, I already told you we're not-"

"But the child is ours for the time being John, so she's not wrong exactly." Sherlock interrupted, looking much too amused for John's liking. He glared at the grinning man but gave up when it only amused him further. Sherlock never did try to correct anyone when it came to misconceptions about their relationship.

L watched the exchange intently, attempting to learn more about the men he would be living with. His observation was interrupted as a small wrapped candy was suddenly in his face. He stared at the old woman as she silently waited for him to take the offered treat. One of the first rules taught to children was never to take anything from strangers but the woman seemed harmless and the scrutinizing stare from the man called Sherlock made it hard to refuse. Mrs. Hudson beamed again when he carefully took it from her palm.

John was about to step in to help when the boy's weak fingers struggled with the wrapper but the slight shake of Sherlock's head kept him fixed in place. The boy eventually managed to peel the colorful wrapper off. He stared at the small pink orb of sugar for a moment then sniffed it. The smell of strawberry filled his nose letting him know in advance what flavor it would be. He tentatively slipped the candy into his mouth.

The boy's eyes shot open wide and his face lit up as a look of wonder and awe overtook his once solemn features. John found the sight endearing yet sad; such a simple thing brought the boy such joy, which meant he never got to experience such things before. L sucked on the candy enthusiastically, looking to be in a world all his own. His wide eyes closed and his lips quirked up in a small smile as he savored the sweet treat.

It was clear to John that the boy would want lots of candy in the future. He had a lot of work cut out for him if he wanted the boy to eat healthy. Speaking of eating…

"We should really get him something else to eat, Sherlock." John advised, seeing the way the shirt hung loosely on the boy's boney frame. They'd have to get him some proper clothes as well.

"Naturally." Sherlock was already making his way out of the room towards the stairs.

"I have a spot of soup still in the fridge." Mrs. Hudson said.

"That'll do nicely. Thank you, Mrs. Hudson." Sherlock called back, not sparing the woman another glance.

"Of course. Anything for the little dearie." She said, smiling still. "I'll go fetch it and bring it up."

She didn't mention not being their housekeeper this time but that was no doubt because of L; she was already completely taken with the boy and was more than willing to help take care of him.

L took in every strange, unusual trinket of Sherlock's with curious eyes once they reached their flat. The skull on the mantel really caught his eye. He stared at it but made no move to retrieve it; he seemed afraid to disturb anything if the way he lingered unsurely in the middle of the room was any indication. Sherlock of course noticed his staring, as he had been observing the boy's reaction the whole time. He surprised John by picking up the skull and lightly tossing it L's way. The boy caught it and stared at Sherlock, looking unsure. Sherlock merely turned away and went to hang up his coat. L ran his fingers over the skull, studying every inch of it hungrily. The fact that it was a real skull made it all the more fascinating to him; it wasn't often that a person beyond those involved in the medical profession got to hold a genuine skull in their hands. He wondered how Sherlock had come by it but didn't dwell on it.

Sherlock watched L study the skull with a small grin. It seemed the boy was just as fascinated by the skull as Sherlock had been when he first got his hands on one, which wasn't that far from the boy's age now. The boy showed no disgust or horror at holding the skull of a once living person. He'd probably have no trouble at crime scenes then but he'd need to bring him to one to be sure.

 _He'd make a fine consulting detective one day,_ Sherlock thought, gazing at the boy with an almost fond look.

"Ooh-ooh" Mrs. Hudson announced herself as she came into the flat, carrying a tray of soup. She moved towards the kitchen but stopped with a sigh at the experiment littered table. She settled for placing the tray on the coffee table in front of the couch. She smiled at L and gently led him over to sit down in front of it. He stared down into the soup, hungry but still hesitant.

"Go on, dear." Mrs. Hudson encouraged. L picked up the spoon and scooped some up.

"Careful it's hot." She warned. L blew on it till he thought it cool enough then started eating. The soup wasn't anything fancy but it tasted good enough. L found himself longing for the sweet taste of the candy instead though. However, he knew this was the healthier option so he continued to eat the soup.

"Make sure to eat slowly and don't force yourself to finish it." John advised him, carefully watching his intake to make sure L didn't eat more than his starved stomach could handle.

The soup warmed L's insides and made him relax though he was still wary of his new situation. Mrs. Hudson took the tray once L was done, still smiling. L wondered if there was ever a time when she didn't smile.

"L." John called out, gaining L's attention. "I was hoping I could look you over. I want to know for sure the state you're in." L hesitated again.

"It'll be over sooner if you just cooperate. John won't stop worrying otherwise." Sherlock said from his chair where he was silently observing.

L stood and walked over towards the man. He carefully pulled his shirt over his head as advised, leaving him with only underwear that barely stayed in place on his hips. He shivered; the room's warm temperature felt cold to his thin body. He stood still as John gently looked him over. Beyond being malnourished, the boy was in overall good condition.

"How long have you been living on the streets?" John asked as he counted the boy's ribs. L said nothing. He glanced over at Sherlock, expecting him to read him as he had been doing up till then.

"Though I am more than capable of deducing your thoughts, I rather not waste any more effort doing so. I suggest you start speaking them." Sherlock sternly advised, startling the two. John glared over at him.

"Sherlock-"

"No John. I took in a young genius, not a helpless mute so stop acting like one." Sherlock's words were harsh but true. L had been keeping quiet because he didn't trust either man just yet but also because he was still caught in the habit of trying to hide his intellect. Sherlock wasn't going to stand for it anymore; he had already told him before not to hide it and he wasn't one known for his patience.

"Two years. I have been on the streets for two years." L finally said, answering John's previous question. He kept his eyes locked with Sherlock's but offered no other response to his words. Sherlock nodded, satisfied.

John supplied L with one of his jumpers once he was done. The jumper acted as more of a nightgown than a shirt but it covered what it needed to so L accepted it. It was only temporary after all.

"For now you can stay on the couch. Is that okay?" John asked.

"That's fine. Thank you." John smiled. He went and got a spare pillow and blanket for him. John made up a bed for him on the couch.

"Try to get some sleep. We'll get you everything you need tomorrow."

John strode over to Sherlock and yanked him out of his chair. He pulled the man from the room.

"John-" Sherlock protested but John didn't relent. He knew the man often hung out in the front room during the nights he didn't sleep but he wanted L to get some sleep; Sherlock would have to spend the night in his own room for once, whether he slept or not.

"Goodnight." John called as he pulled the still protesting detective from the room.

L watched them go then turned towards the makeshift bed. He laid down on the couch but knew he wouldn't be sleeping that night.

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The night slowly passed and sleep never did come to L. He spent the night listening to the sounds coming from Sherlock's bedroom down the hallway. The man paced around a bit, mumbling to himself, before tinkering loudly with something. It was on constant repeat but it was interesting to listen to. Knowing he was spending the night with others was strange at first but did make L feel a little more secure and safe. The couch didn't have the softest cushions but it was more comfortable than the unforgiving concrete of alleyways.

Because L hadn't slept, he was sitting wide-awake when a sharply dressed man calmly strolled into the flat. The man noticed him instantly and walked over towards him. He leaned over him, silently staring at him as if waiting for something. He knew he should have screamed, if not for help then at least to warn Sherlock and John that there was an intruder. Something kept him quiet though.

"Should you not be screaming? I could hurt you, or kidnap you, or even kill you." The man said after a minute. There was a challenge in his eyes and L found himself rising to it.

"Are you going to?" He challenged right back. The man smirked, looking amused.

"Hmmmm. Not quite so timid after all." L glared up at him. The man chuckled as he took a seat in one of the chairs. The man showed a familiarity with the room that revealed he had been there before on at least one other occasion. L kept his glare.

"Now that is a familiar look." The man said. "Very much like Sherlock." The mention of the man distracted him but he didn't let it for long.

"How-"

"Do I know Sherlock?" The man finished for him. The man fiddled with the handle of his umbrella for a second before answering. "Sherlock calls me his archenemy." He looked up at L with sharp, expectant eyes. The man's choice of phrasing revealed a lot to the boy.

"But he's not yours." L said cautiously. The man smirked, showing that he had been testing him.

"Indeed. It is a completely one-sided take on our relationship."

"One-sided or not, it is the truth." Sherlock stated as he stepped into the room. L tensed at the harsh look Sherlock was giving the man. It seemed the man wasn't exaggerating when he said Sherlock saw him as his archenemy.

"Go upstairs to John." Sherlock ordered him while maintaining eye contact with the man. L quickly scampered from the room. He lingered on the stairs though. He was curious so he sat down to listen in as best as he could.

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"Quite the intelligent child."

"What do you want, Mycroft?" Sherlock asked irritably as he took the seat opposite his brother, ignoring his words.

"Nothing in particular." Mycroft said, turning his eyes away from where the boy had escaped and onto his brother.

"I must say, Sherlock, I never expected you to have such a…familial side." Sherlock scoffed.

"Don't be ridiculous, Mycroft. I took the child in purely for intellectual reasons." Mycroft sat back further in his chair, eyes glinting with amusement.

"Of course. Clearly that is the only reason you would take in such a… misunderstood child." Sherlock glared.

"What are you implying?" He asked, voice tense.

"I am not implying anything."

"Yes, you are." Sherlock insisted. "You're implying that I sympathize with him because of my own childhood."

"You said it, dear brother, not me." Sherlock's glare intensified but he was unfazed by it. He let the conversation linger before changing the subject.

"Whatever the case, this should prove to be interesting."

"What are you on about now?" Sherlock asked, attempting to look disinterested.

"We both know you are not fit to care for the boy."

"Of course not, but John is."

"Children naturally look to those around them for inspiration. Up till now, the boy had no one. Now he will have Dr. Watson, Mrs. Hudson…and you, Sherlock. Especially you." He emphasized, voice slowing with seriousness. "He will be drawn to your intelligence, much like you were drawn to his. Whether you like it or not, you will have just as much of a part in his upbringing as the doctor, if not more so." He smirked suddenly as he rose from his chair.

"I am curious to see how he will turn out." Sherlock just glared. Mycroft saw himself out. He nodded in L's direction as he passed, showing no surprise at seeing the boy there. L kept quiet though. He stayed on the steps even after the man left. He contemplated everything he had heard but all he found was that he was even more curious about the man called Sherlock Holmes.

 **Author Note: I hope I didn't make Sherlock come off as too harsh with L. He's not an easy character to write at times.**

 **I wanted to keep the "Usual" or "Unusual" thing I had going with the chapter titles but it is proving difficult so I might stop at some point. I'm not too set on this chapter title in particular. Help?**

 **Please Review.**


	4. The Usual First Case

**Author Note: Sorry for the very long delay. College, what more do I need to say?**

 **There is an OC character at the end of the chapter that will play a part in a small case that will most likely take up 1 chapter or maybe 2. I just want a case before Moriarty's.**

 **The OC character might be familiar to a few of you.**

 **Hope I manage to keep Sherlock in character.**

 **Warning: Eventual spoilers for Series 1 and 2**

 **Disclaimer:** **Death Note and its characters belong to Tsugumi Ohba while Sherlock and its characters belong to Arthur Conan Doyle, Mark Gatiss and Steven Mofatt**

Chapter 4: The Usual First Case

"L?"

L looked over his shoulder as John stopped behind him. John finished tying his dressing gown as he stared curiously at the child. "What are you doing on the stairs?"

"There was a visitor." L said as he stood up to let John pass.

"Oh? Maybe a client." He mumbled to himself as he continued down, heading for the kitchen. He glanced through the sliding doors into the sitting room as he walked in with L following along. He stopped once he got a look at Sherlock. Clearly, the visitor hadn't been a simple client as the man was scowling in his chair. John sighed at the familiar look.

"So what did Mycroft want?" John asked as he started making coffee.

"To annoy me." Sherlock said with a clipped tone, showing he wasn't going to say anything more about it. John let out another sigh and decided to focus on L instead.

"So L…" L looked away from Sherlock and turned his way. "We don't have much but I'll see if we can get you some breakfast."

John's search for food proved unsuccessful. John knew at this point not to trust most sections of the kitchen with food, as Sherlock didn't really care much where he put his experiments. However, there really wasn't much food at all in the designated safe areas. Thankfully, Mrs. Hudson had already thought of this. She came up with food for them just as John was thinking he was going to have to go out to get some.

L slowly ate the eggs and toast given to him but was rather put off by the woman's staring. She watched him eat with that big smile of hers. He knew she meant nothing by it but he already had the doctor watching his every bite and he at least had a reason. He couldn't bring himself to say anything about it though. He thanked her as she took the tray then turned his attention on John as he started talking.

"We need to get L some clothes, Sherlock." John said, staring at the jumper L was still wearing.

"No need." Sherlock said, standing up. John looked ready to protest but Sherlock quickly continued as he peered out the window.

"No doubt Mycroft has already bought everything he'll need. It should all be delivered right about now." The doorbell rang just as he finished. John knew he should be used to it by now but was still impressed.

Mycroft really had bought everything L needed, even a bed. They decided that John's room was a better place for the bed than Sherlock's. It was a bit cramped but it would work. John put aside the boxes of books that were clearly intended for L's education and instead grabbed one of the boxes of clothes. He carried it to the bathroom and put it down on the tiled floor. Clearly seeing his intent, L followed behind him.

"You'll be fine on your own, right?" John asked, knowing the boy would be but still asking anyway. L nodded so John left him alone to shower and dress. John went and got dressed himself.

It wasn't long before L was done in the bathroom. It was easier to see just how pale he was now that he was clean. John was relieved to see that it was not an unhealthy pale. L's choice of clothing wasn't what John was expecting. Out of all the nice clothes Mycroft got for him, he chose the baggiest ones. The long sleeved shirt hung off him and made his slightly hunched posture all the more obvious. The jeans L chose were a bit more form fitting but John guessed that it wasn't because of preference but because there weren't any other pants in the box that were really baggy enough for his tastes. John was sure that the clothes were more expensive then they looked but when combined with L's still malnourished appearance and unruly hair they made him look like he couldn't afford much of anything. Sherlock showed no surprise regarding L's choice though. John didn't dwell on it; he just guessed that those were more comfortable for L.

John went through some of the boxes and found a chess set. Sherlock scoffed once he saw it. He never did like chess, not because he wasn't good at it. Really the problem, as always, was that he was too good at it. The game was just too boring and predictable to him unless he had someone that could actually be a challenge for him and there was no way he'd play with Mycroft. Even then it didn't really interest him. He much rather use his intellect in solving crimes than in planning strategies, which really was more Mycroft's area. Mycroft knew his feelings on the game and still bought it anyway.

John was able to guess from Sherlock's face that there was a Mycroft related issue with chess so he didn't even ask. However, L was showing some interest. John smiled at that. He pushed the boxes away from the coffee table and started setting up the board. L leaned over to watch, taking careful note of where each type of piece went. John sat down and patted the cushion beside him. L obediently sat, eager to learn about this clearly strategic game. John explained each piece, how they were able to move and the goal of the game. It was clear once they started a match that L was completely taken with the game. He smoothly moved pieces with confidence as he slowly overwhelmed John.

Sherlock tried to keep his scowl but it slowly slipped away as he watched L best John in chess. It seemed that L had a knack for strategy like Mycroft did. He frowned at that. That wouldn't do, he was supposed to be a consulting detective like Sherlock. However, he didn't stop the match, even Sherlock knew it was best that L had some strategic skill. He'd just have to make sure that L liked solving crimes more.

Sherlock's phone went off, announcing that he had a message. He pulled it out of his pocket and glanced at it. When he read it even he had to admit the timing of the message surprised him. He still jumped with glee though as he turned to John and L.

"Murder." He announced happily. "Come on." He grabbed his coat as he ran to the door.

"Sherlock, what about-" John was quickly cut off.

"He's coming with us of course. He has to start solving crimes sometime." He dashed down the stairs, not giving John another chance to protest. John sighed. He rose to follow and waited as L reluctantly put on a pair of sneakers. The reluctance wasn't from having to go with John and Sherlock but rather from having to wear shoes. He was so used to going barefoot that he didn't like how the shoes felt on his feet. L followed John out of the flat and climbed into the cab where Sherlock was impatiently waiting. L stared out the window as he eagerly waited for them to reach their destination.

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The group of police cars and forensic agents let L know they were there before the cab stopped. He climbed from the cab and quickly followed behind Sherlock's quick strides. Lestrade was waiting for them. His greeting wasn't very warm when he caught sight of L.

"You can't be serious." He sighed. "Sherlock, what is he doing here? You can't bring a child to a crime scene."

"He is not just some child. He is here to learn and gain experience." Sherlock said, passing the man without slowing. "He's seen murder before, remember that." L stopped when he reached the man.

"I'll be fine, Inspector." He said. Lestrade stared down at him and blinked a few times, showing his surprise at being addressed by him; he had only seen L when he was quiet and rarely spoke. He'll admit that this was a nice improvement. He gave the boy a small smile, worry forgotten for the moment. L hurried past him then to catch up with Sherlock who was already leaning over the corpse hidden behind some trash bins. Lestrade sighed but yielded. He walked behind L and ultimately passed him with his longer strides.

"We've already identified him. Harold Carson, soldier honorably discharged about a month ago due to severe shoulder injury. Daughter claims he was on his way to meet her fiancé at the pub nearby but never made it. Poor bloke. Makes the fiancé mighty suspicious." Lestrade told Sherlock as he stopped just out of the man's area of investigation.

L felt his eagerness slip away and his steps slow as he approached the body. As Sherlock mentioned, this wasn't his first time seeing a dead body but there was a certain sadness to the sight this time. The Inspector's words painted the victim as a good, honest man. The knowledge that another good man had passed not long after the other he had witnessed was rather depressing; up till this point, L was allowed some ignorance regarding just how frequently good people were killed. Now he knew better.

Sherlock seemed to ignore Lestrade as he impatiently waved L over. L hesitated but soon joined the man, carefully stepping over anything of potential importance. He was now able to stare into the face of the deceased man. The expression now permanently ingrained into the aged features was a forlorn one. It made L's regret all the stronger.

"No reason to feel sad." Sherlock said suddenly. L looked up and found the man's sharp eyes boring into him. "Good people die everyday. It's something you'll just have to accept." Sherlock continued.

L didn't know the man well enough to tell whether he really was as indifferent towards the whole thing as he was sounding. He knew the man was right but, at the same time, it didn't feel right to simply not care. His protest came out before he could stop it.

"But can't regret be an incentive to catch the killer and prevent more victims?" He immediately regretted asking; he feared he had overstepped a line. However, Sherlock's face showed no anger at his words. In fact, it didn't change at all beyond a slight shift that L couldn't decipher.

"Perhaps it can for some." Sherlock finally said. "However, remember caring can be a weakness." There wasn't as much certainty to those words as Sherlock probably intended, which made L wonder where Sherlock got them from; he didn't seem to believe in it wholeheartedly enough to be the source but was attempting to, which meant they were from someone he respected at least. L wondered what John would have said in response; the man seemed to be Sherlock's friend and yet Sherlock said caring was a weakness. L glanced over at the doctor but found he was busy conversing with the Inspector. L suspected that the man would not have been happy had he heard. L didn't quite agree with Sherlock but couldn't bring himself to say as much.

"Well?" Sherlock asked, yanking L from his thoughts. He looked back at the man. Sherlock gestured to the body, clearing waiting for L to make his own deductions. L turned his attention on the body and hesitated as nerves got the best of him. This was his first time investigating. He had no real experience and yet…

"Don't falter." L jumped at the sharp words that once again snapped him from his thoughts. Sherlock's voice softened slightly once he had L's attention again. "This is just to gain experience. We'll work on your deductions with time. For now…your instincts will suffice."

The words did manage to reassure him. L took a deep breath and looked back at the body. What immediately caught his attention was the stab wound in the right shoulder. It was clearly the cause of the blood loss that sealed the man's end. Looking over the rest of the body, revealed other smaller wounds no doubt received during a struggle. However, there were not many, which showed he managed to overpower his attacker enough to defend himself from other serious injuries. So the first stab was a surprise attack. That was rather revealing. Sherlock grinned as he realized where L's thoughts were going. He gave the boy a nod of encouragement as he looked for permission.

"Signs of a struggle…" L started slowly, still a bit anxious. He kept his eyes only on Sherlock though and not on any of the others listening. "…as expected from a trained soldier. However, the first attack was unexpected so he was unable to defend himself from it. The killer had the perfect opportunity to hit something vital and yet they went for the shoulder. Why not hit somewhere more serious than the shoulder with the first strike?" Sherlock hummed approvingly and took over from there, knowing that L had pieced most if not everything together.

"The shoulder was the killer's aim. He must have known about the previous injury to it and aimed for it with the intention of weakening the victim. He then fought with the victim till blood loss took its toll." He turned to Lestrade to give his deduction on the killer's identity.

"The fact the killer knew about the previous injury to the shoulder means it couldn't have been the fiancé. He hadn't met the victim yet so there was no chance for the victim to share this information with him. The fact that the victim was injured was probably well known by friends and acquaintances but only the family would have known the exact location. I doubt the daughter would have told the fiancé either but it is a possibility. This was most likely an attempt at framing the fiancé."

"What? Really?" Lestrade asked. Sherlock ignored him.

"Does the daughter have any siblings?" Sherlock asked.

"Uh. Yeah. A younger brother." Lestrade was looking rather lost now, much like John.

"No others?"

"No, mother passed during birth."

"How young is the brother?" Sherlock asked.

"About nine years younger than the daughter."

"Any close relatives?" Lestrade shook his head.

"Perfect!" Sherlock exclaimed. "There's your killer."

"Wait. What?" Lestrade and John were completely lost now. Sherlock sighed heavily but went on to explain.

"Mother dies giving birth to the brother. No close relatives to help raise him. However, he does have an older sister at a mature enough age to act as a mother towards him. He would see her as such." Sherlock spoke quickly with no real pause.

"Oh, he knows that she is actually his sister but at the same time he holds an attachment for her much like a son would have towards his mother. Now the sister is planning to marry someone and leave him for someone he probably doesn't approve of. My guess is that the father did approve. He would have felt angry towards the father but that wasn't the reason for the murder. No, he wanted to frame the fiancé so the sister wouldn't marry him and would ultimately stay with him."

"You got all that just from the fact that the stab wound was in the shoulder?" Lestrade asked. L understood his disbelief but Sherlock's deductions made sense to him so he didn't have the same problem. He looked up at the man with awe, causing the man to smirk slightly.

"It's not hard. You just need to think." Sherlock said, smugly. "If you need proof. Bring in the brother. Talk to the sister first and get her to ask the brother. He won't lie to her."

Sherlock started towards the road, prompting L to jump up to follow. Sherlock paused to let the boy catch up. L nearly stopped at the quick brush of a hand on his shoulders that felt almost affectionate. He refrained from looking up at the man, thinking it was probably just an accident.

L followed Sherlock to many others cases and did just as he did with the first one. He found with each one he spotted something new and was able to deduce more from it. He was clearly learning from Sherlock and was proud of that. Normally, Sherlock would have been jumping off the walls whenever they weren't on a case but not as often now that L was with them. Now whenever they weren't on a case, Sherlock would test L by telling him about old cases to see how much he could deduce with the information given to him. L was still saddened by the deaths of the victims but found the investigation work rather enjoyable. Sherlock had even started to play chess with him, using it to further test and train him.

"With the right opponent, chess can be a effective way to test yourself. However, remember, life isn't a chess game. Not everyone will play by the rules and sometimes you might need to cheat yourself. It's up to you to make sure you don't go too far." Sherlock advised him once while cementing his victory with checkmate. L was too focused on his words to care about the loss. He didn't know it yet but those words would be at the center of a monumental case of his own much later in his life.

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John quietly followed Sherlock and L up the steps to the flat as they spoke of an old case even though they had just solved a case. John will admit he was proud of how L had changed from his first day with them. He was no longer shy and timid though he was still very careful when speaking with others and was still overall quiet. L had gained some weight and was no longer as pale as he once was, though his skin was still much lighter than most. There were slight bags forming under his eyes that John was working on but L was a lot like Sherlock in that he much preferred to stay awake.

They all froze once they saw the woman sitting on the couch in the front room. The woman of noticeably Asian descent, reminding John of Soo Lin Yao, stood up.

"Sorry I let myself in…but I can't really afford to come back later. I need your help finding someone."

John barely heard her words; he was too focused on the woman's eyes. One was very dark while the other was red, an almost glowing red. John couldn't explain it but something about her besides that eye felt…strange.

 **Author Note: Sorry if that case I wrote was lame. Just wanted something simple as L's first case. Hope it makes sense.**

 **I did notice that Sherlock isn't one for strategies most of the time. He can do them he just seems to prefer jumping head first into situations. That does change as the series goes on though when it comes to Moriarty.**

 **Who is that woman?**

 **Fans of my other stories have probably already figured it out. If you have, I wanna explain. She is here for no reason other than I wanted her to be. I enjoy her character so I wanted to put her in here.**

 **She'll play no part in this story beyond this case, though she may leave an impact. So those that are unfamiliar with her, fear not, it doesn't really matter.**

 **I also want to explain, though I probably don't need to, that this story has no connection with my other story. Everything that happens with this character is non-canon. So any changes to her past or relationship with other characters should not be taken into account when reading my other story or this one.**

 **Best to take it as an AU take on her character.**

 **Hope this is all okay with fans of her character. Her personality will remain unchanged overall.**

 **If you have any questions regarding this, message me.**

 **Please Review.**


	5. The Unusual Client

**Author Note: Once again that took longer than I meant it to. I unfortunately got a stomach virus and couldn't work on the chapter because of it. Anyway, I'm better now so...**

 **Okay. I have been asked by a reader whether I planned on making this a Johnlock fic.**

 **I hadn't planned on it but now that I'm thinking about it, I do want to try. Those who aren't into that sort of thing don't worry. I will most likely only have it implied. Honestly, I can't imagine those two acting physically intimate or even admitting such feelings to each other so for the time being it will be implied and up to interpretation.**

 **If that changes I will let you know in advance.**

 **Once again, I apologize if there is any oocness. I'm working on it, I promise.**

 **Disclaimer:** **Death Note and its characters belong to Tsugumi Ohba while Sherlock and its characters belong to Arthur Conan Doyle, Mark Gatiss and Steven Mofatt**

Chapter 5: The Unusual Client

Sherlock looked the tense woman over, trying to deduce the usual little things but for some reason he couldn't. He couldn't tell anything, not even what she had last eaten or even when that was. There were no stains on her clothes, which would normally make him think they were new but the fabric didn't look as such. The style of the clothes themselves was common and not at all personalized, giving no hint of the woman's preferences. Even the way she styled her long black hair revealed nothing. There were no scents coming from her clothing either and she herself seemed to be without a scent, almost as if she wasn't really there. He was a bit unnerved by all this but ignored that for the moment.

He silently gestured for her to sit down again. She relaxed and sat down. John sat in his chair, waiting for the client to explain her case. Sherlock had L sit in his chair to listen in since the couch was occupied. L hesitated at first but then climbed onto it to crouch on the chair. John frowned at that. He really needed to stop the boy from sitting in such a way; it would really hurt his spine later in life if the habit continued. L refused to sit any other way though no matter what he said.

Surprisingly, the woman didn't question or protest L being there. She glanced over at him but then turned her attention to Sherlock. Sherlock grasped his hands behind his back and started his usual pace in front of the client. Getting the hint, the woman started to speak.

"My name is Akishi. I need your help finding this person." She pulled a photo from her pocket. They all noticed that she had said no surname but didn't question it right then. Sherlock stepped forward to pluck the photo from her hand. She paused as he looked down at it.

Sherlock stared at the Asian man in the photo. He was bound and gagged. Clearly a kidnapping and the fact she had this photo meant they were asking for a ransom. The man's pallor and the hollow of his cheeks revealed that he was ill with very little time left. He handed the photo back to her.

"Who is he?" He asked, prompting her to continue with her explanation.

"Satoshi Takigawa. We came to London for a short vacation. He was kidnapped a few days ago from the park." She said with a sad expression, gripping the photo tightly.

"The Takigawas are a rich, influential family in Japan." John supplied, knowing Sherlock wouldn't recognize the name since he never paid attention to such things. Akishi nodded.

"Yes, the kidnappers are demanding a ransom. I of course went to the police but I heard about you and thought it best to come ask for your help as well." Sherlock sighed. He was hoping for a more interesting case than this. It wasn't really worth the effort.

"If he's from such an important family, you might as well pay the ransom. I guarantee that he'll be returned safely." Sherlock said, turning away.

"They won't pay."

Sherlock froze in his step. He looked back at the now scowling woman.

"The Takigawa's abandoned him years ago, just leaving him with the name. They never cared before and they won't now." Akishi clearly despised the family for that reason. That made Sherlock hesitate in turning down the case. However, the case clearly didn't need him. This was one he was sure even Scotland Yard could handle.

"I'm sure Scotland Yard can handle your case. There really isn't any need for me to get involved." It was then that Sherlock's cruel, usually unintentional lack of tact reared its head.

"It seems like such a waste of effort. It doesn't look like he'll last long anyway." Both John and L were stunned by the unintentionally cruel words but not for long.

"Sherlock!"

Sherlock turned at John's alarmed shout and found himself yanked down by the collar into Akishi's snarling face. He knew she was no real threat, though she was stronger than he expected, so he didn't attempt to break free. He was a little unnerved by how her red eye seemed to glow menacingly in her anger.

"I don't know you. I don't know if today is a bad day, if you have something against me or if you're really just an asshole." She tightened her grip.

"Whatever it is. I don't care. You are going to help me whether you want to or not." She deflated but didn't release her grip. "You're right. He doesn't have long left…" Her somberness vanished as she glared with new determination.

"…But that's all the more reason for me to find him. I refuse to let his last moments be anything but peaceful. It's all I can really do for him." The two remained quietly locked in place as Akishi waited for Sherlock to respond.

Sherlock silently took in the woman's fierce determination and her deep care for the kidnapped man. He knew his brother still would have turned her down without question but he couldn't…not this time, even though he wanted to.

"Fine. We'll take your case."

Akishi's fierce expression softened instantly into a smile. She released his collar and stepped back. Sherlock stared at her as he fixed his collar. He'll admit it was a bit surprising how easily the woman hid her ferocity behind that smile. Looking at her now, you wouldn't expect it. He was admittedly impressed by her tenacity. Many others would have simply stormed out, offended by his words, but she stood her ground.

"Thank you." She said pleasantly as if she hadn't just threatened him. Sherlock let it pass though. John finally relaxed in his chair now that the tense moment had passed. He stood up after a second.

"I'm glad that's all decided but it is rather late. We'll have to start tomorrow." Sherlock went to protest but John quickly stopped him. "L needs to sleep." He said sternly, directing a firm look at Sherlock and at L. L sulked but didn't protest. Akishi sighed but conceded easily enough.

"Is there a way we can contact you?" John asked. He pulled out his notepad, ready to write down a number.

"I don't have a cell phone." Akishi said, looking embarrassed. "You can call Satoshi's hotel room though."

She provided the number then left. It was only then that John noticed that she didn't even have a purse with her. It was a minor thing easily forgotten as he busied himself with coaxing L to bed.

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John was asleep for barely three hours before he shot awake at the sound of a choked scream. L was thrashing in his bed, clearly in the throes of a nightmare. John immediately leapt from his bed to wake him. L woke easily enough. He sat up in bed, breathing heavily. The haunted look on L's face reminded John of his own nightmares. He knew not to underestimate them.

John waited till the boy was aware before placing a hand on his shoulder. L leaned into the touch slightly for a second before drawing away and hugging his knees to his chest. He didn't say anything and John wasn't going to ask him about his nightmare. L didn't even look like he wanted John to comfort him but he was going to anyway. Neither was one for much physical contact so he decided to talk instead.

"After the war, I had constant nightmares and this suffocating feeling of uselessness. I had no purpose and nothing ever happened." L peeked over at him to show he was listening.

"It was all too much really. It wasn't until I met Sherlock that life became bearable again." John smiled softly as he thought of the man.

"He gave me something to wake up to each day. Being with him and making sure he survived each day was my new purpose. Even if the nightmares never stopped, I'd still have him to follow to crime scenes and that's enough; they don't control me anymore."

John knew that being so open about such things was unlike him but couldn't seem to stop now that he had started.

"Keeping Sherlock safe isn't easy though. In fact, the first case I ever worked on with him, I killed a man to save that idiot."

Knowing how strong John's morality was, L was shocked to hear that. Seeing his shock, John elaborated.

"It's easy to say that you'll protect someone but the truth is that you might have to do something you'd never thought yourself capable of. Killing someone or putting yourself at risk." John unconsciously placed a hand over his shoulder as he thought about how he got that injury risking his life trying to help his comrades.

"All to protect a friend or even a stranger. To really do that, you need to be strong and willing to do what is necessary. And, if you can, survive to see your loved ones again."

L listened with rapt attention, knowing that what John was saying was important and probably wiser than the man realized.

"You're still young so you probably won't have to worry about such things but I'm sure one day you'll be strong enough to do what you need to." John's smile turned sad but was still reassuring.

"I can't stop the nightmares and I don't even know what to say to really make it easier." John gently placed a hand on his shoulder again.

"But remember that there is more than just the nightmares, there will always be something to wake up to…something worthwhile. You just need to figure out just what that something is."

L still said nothing but he looked a lot calmer. L stretched out his legs again and lied back down. He wasn't really planning to sleep but decided to see if sleep did come back to him. John smiled as he gently brought the blanket back over L. He didn't encourage L to sleep but was glad to see he wasn't afraid of doing so. John risked a quick brush through the boy's hair before stepping away from the bed. L stared after him, surprised by the action. He said nothing though and buried his face into the pillow, trying to ignore the warm feeling in his chest.

John slipped back into bed and peeked back over at L. The boy was curled up and seemed to already be drifting off a bit. John smiled. He had thought of children before the war but didn't think it such a good idea after. He worried what effect his own trauma would have on the child. Looking at L though, he thought there wasn't a better child for him. He didn't have to worry about messing this one up; he was too strong for that.

Sherlock quietly stepped away from the door once he heard John climb back into bed. He had come running when he heard L's scream but stopped when he heard John talking through the door. He had never heard John talk like that before; he never liked to speak of his own weakness, even when it was simply mentioning his old limp. He didn't hesitate to share with L though.

Sherlock didn't really know how to react when he heard John speak of him though a warm feeling had stirred in his chest. He never realized he meant so much to John. In John's mind, Sherlock had saved him. Just as John would never admit such a thing to him, Sherlock would never admit that John had saved him as well. He shook his head, pushing those thoughts away. He ignored the feeling in his chest and trudged back downstairs to his room. He had no time to waste on sentiment; he had a case to work on.

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They were all surprised to see Akishi sitting in the front room again in the morning.

"Sorry I let myself in again…I couldn't wait." She didn't seem that apologetic though. Sherlock sighed but didn't immediately demand that she leave.

"What are you expecting to accomplish by being here?" He asked instead.

"I don't know how much help I can be but I'd like to try. I can't just sit by and do nothing; it's not in my nature." Her eyes were burning with that same determination as yesterday. Sherlock groaned but let her stay for the moment nonetheless.

"How long in advance was this vacation planned?" He asked as he prompted L to take a seat in his chair once more. They should really look into getting him his own chair.

"A couple days at most. It was rather spontaneous. We figured since he…" She trailed off, looking solemn. They all understood what she was going to say though. Sherlock didn't comment. He turned to L.

"This would mean what?" He asked expectantly.

"The kidnappers had very little time to plan." L answered. Sherlock nodded.

"And…?" He prompted with a small grin.

"The fact they didn't know how estranged he was shows they didn't research him before kidnapping him. They either had no time to research or acted purely on the fact that he was a member of the family. It was a spontaneous kidnapping. They saw an opportunity and took it."

"Exactly…I'd be surprised if there was any planning at all. It was an act of complete desperation." Sherlock took the reins then, going full speed from there.

"Many businesses over the world turn to the Takigawa family for either financial support or for help in getting connected with other businesses." He said confidently, as if he hadn't just heard about the family yesterday.

"We're most likely looking for a business that has only recently sought out the family. Others who have before would be more likely to know enough about the family to realize that kidnapping the victim would gain them nothing. I've already looked into it and there is only one that fits that criteria."

Sherlock stopped to open his laptop. There was a business website already open and waiting. John vaguely recognized the business as the one that had recently come up with this new product. He couldn't really remember what it was though but he did remember that the business wasn't doing too well.

"The Winston Company asked the Takigawas for some money to help promote their new product but they didn't give them nearly enough. The company is struggling and in desperate need of money but the Takigawas are refusing to give any more. That's where we'll start."

Sherlock shut the laptop and turned to Akishi. She was staring at them with the familiar awed expression. L especially impressed her because of his age but that was expected.

"See? You're help isn't needed. You can go." Sherlock told her, clearly wanting her gone.

"Please let me stay." She insisted anyway. Sherlock let out an exasperated sigh as he ran a hand down his face.

"You're being needlessly stubborn about this."

"I know but-"

"Can you fight?" Sherlock asked suddenly, cutting her off. She sat there a moment, taken aback.

"Wha-"

"Can you fire a gun?" Sherlock continued, ignoring her attempts to speak. Her silence was answer enough.

"No? So unless you can deflect bullets I see no reason to take you with us." She said nothing for a moment but seemed to be holding in a protest. She spoke after a minute but clearly not what she originally wanted to say.

"You said the kidnapping wasn't really planned so what are the odds that they'd be properly armed?" She had a point there but still…

"It's not that long of a process to get guns if they go through the underground."

"Isn't that just another way to potentially track down the kidnappers?"

Sherlock was admittedly impressed. She couldn't fight but clearly her strength was her tenacity and mind. It was nowhere near as sharp as Sherlock or L's but it was still occasionally impressive. Sherlock didn't respond. Both stared silently, neither wanting to back down. Akishi sighed after a moment.

"Look…you're just investigating now, not confronting the kidnappers. At least let me come with you for that?"

John was grateful for the attempt at compromise; he feared there would have been no end to this otherwise. Sherlock said nothing. He didn't want to have someone tagging along with them but he knew she would just follow them anyway. He spun away and stormed from the room.

"Fine."

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The Winston Company building wasn't anything special was the first thing they noticed as they got out the cab. The only thing that really made it stand out from the other buildings around it was the sign, without it you'd probably just think it was any other office.

"Sherlock…" John spoke up as a sudden thought came to him. "What are the chances the CEO is involved with is?"

"Of course he isn't. It's obviously only a couple of employees that are responsible. They are probably at risk of being let go now that the company is struggling, which is why they wanted to use the ransom to get their own financial security."

"But there must be many that are going to be let go. How do you plan to find out which ones are the culprits?"

"Easy. We go in asking questions and see who acts suspiciously." He said it as if it was obvious.

"That guy." Akishi snarled suddenly, drawing everyone's attention. She was glaring at a man approaching the building. "I saw him at the park the day Satoshi was kidnapped."

The man looked up from his phone and noticed her glare. He stopped and started backing away. He eventually turned and ran.

Sherlock was immediately suspicious. Akishi had a fierce glare but she clearly wasn't a threat to anyone; there was no real reason for the man to run unless he had done something. He gave chase and of course the others followed him.

It wasn't hard for Sherlock to keep up with the fleeing man. He weaved through the crowd, avoided cars and dodged knocked over trashcans. The same couldn't be said for L though. His shorter legs made it difficult for him to keep up. He was determined though. He ran as fast he could but he was too focused on speed that he wasn't really watching where he was running. He was sent crashing to the ground as his foot got caught in a crevice on the sidewalk. Akishi and John both stopped to look back. The pained look on L's face as he tried and failed to stand up told them that he had at least sprained his ankle.

"Sherlock!" John called out to the still running man. Sherlock stopped and looked back. He took in the situation and hesitated but then ran off regardless.

"Sherlock!" John yelled, torn between following and checking on L.

"Go." Akishi urged him. "I'll take him back to Baker Street. You help Sherlock." John hesitated longer, clearly wondering whether it was safe to leave L with her, but then ran after Sherlock. Akishi watched him go before turning to L.

L stayed where he had fallen, staring down at the ground. He clenched his fists as his body trembled faintly. The trembling wasn't from pain though but frustration. L didn't look up as he heard Akishi approach him with a sigh.

"You may be smarter than most but you are still physically a child. You have limits that they don't."

L knew that already but still…

"I want to help." He admitted, voice soft.

"You do and you will. This is only temporary." Akishi assured him, kneeling in front of him. "One day they will be the ones struggling to keep up with you." She said with a soft grin. L said nothing but he did feel a bit better. Akishi smiled then put her back to him.

"Climb on." L hesitated. "Don't worry; I'm stronger than I look." L still didn't move.

"Or I could carry you in my arms if you want." She said with a mischievous grin.

L scowled; there was no way he was going to be carried like that. He reluctantly climbed onto her back, being careful not to jostle his ankle too much. He looped his arms around her neck as she stood up. She made sure he was secure then started walking back to Baker Street. L didn't question why she didn't call for a cab, as she clearly had no purse or wallet on her, as strange as that was. She started talking again after a few blocks.

"I'm sure you'll be a great detective one day…even better than Sherlock." Her words were soft and sincere but L was still stunned by them.

"Even better?" He was hoping that he would be one day but didn't really believe it possible.

"With him teaching you, of course you will be." She didn't seem to have any doubts at all. L was moved by her faith in him. He relaxed in her hold as they continued on silently.

Akishi gently lowered L down onto the couch in the front room of the flat. L carefully took his sneaker off. Now they could see that his ankle was swelling. Akishi looked rather lost on what to do.

"Ice can help with the swelling." L suggested.

"Uh right." She ran for the kitchen. L could hear her fumble about before returning with ice wrapped in a towel. He gently placed it on his ankle, hissing a bit at the contact. Akishi settled into the seat next to him, watching him tend to his ankle. They sat silently as they waited for Sherlock and John to return.

They didn't have to wait long. The dark look on Sherlock face as he came stomping up the stairs let them know right away that the guy got away somehow. Sherlock ignored them as he plopped down into his chair. He steamed silently as John went to check L's ankle. John carefully wrapped the boy's ankle, pleased that he had thought to use ice to ease the swelling. Thankfully, it wasn't a severe sprain though it will hurt for a while.

Sherlock watched, taking in the scrapes on the boy's hands and knees, which John also tended to. His expression softened with slight regret without him really realizing. He hadn't meant for the boy to get hurt on one of his cases though he knew he couldn't entirely prevent it. It was such a minor injury though, no real need to dwell on it and yet he was. He forced himself to push down his concern and regret. He stiffened in his seat when he noticed Akishi's eyes boring into him, watching every twitch of his expression.

"Alright L, I want you to stay off your feet today and tomorrow at least." John advised him as he led him upstairs to lie down. L wanted to protest but knew he wouldn't get anywhere with that now that John was in doctor mode.

Sherlock and Akishi were left alone in silence. Both stared at each other, lost in their own thoughts. Sherlock eventually stood up to start working on the case again.

"Do you really think it is better not to care?" Sherlock stopped and turned to face Akishi, caught off guard by the unnervingly perceptive question. "You will whether you want to or not."

Sherlock was able to tell from the tone of her voice that she had wondered this before herself.

"And do you want to?" He asked. She hesitated, clearly realizing he was avoiding the question by deflecting it onto her. Surprisingly, she answered.

"A part of me would rather not care for a dying man but another part is relieved to know I still have a heart to care with." Her gaze drifted away from him as she spoke.

Many might think her ludicrous for saying such a thing, that of course she had a heart but he understood. After all he was always trying to suppress his.

"Heart?" He mumbled aloud, caught up in his thoughts. "What good is it really for?" She shrugged, completely unfazed by the question.

"Who knows? I feel that as long as I have a heart, all the love and care Satoshi gives me won't be for nothing and the part of his heart dedicated to me won't be a waste. I want to keep my heart alive for his sake…not my own. So he won't be hurt caring for someone who can't do the same. He doesn't deserve that." Her sad smile turned serious as she glowered slightly at him.

"And I don't think L and John do either."

Damn. She managed to bring it back to him. He didn't want to even consider what she was saying, at least not right then, but he did instinctively store this conversation away in his mind palace.

He said nothing. He turned away and picked up his laptop. He settled in his seat and opened it up, forcing himself to focus solely on the case once more. Akishi glared at his silent brush off but said nothing more. She instead got up to see what John was doing. Sherlock barely noticed her leaving.

Sherlock might not have caught the guy earlier but he did get a good look at his face. The suit he was wearing revealed he was an employee of the Winston Company; he only needed to look up the employees to find him. It didn't take long to find him. Aaron Hayes had worked for the company for several years but wasn't very high ranking. He was a worker the company would have no trouble letting go. Honestly, Sherlock was surprised he hadn't been yet. It will most likely happen soon. Sherlock was one hundred percent certain now that he was one of the kidnappers.

Sherlock pulled out his phone to text Lestrade the information just as John walked into the room.

"One of the kidnappers is Aaron Hayes." Sherlock quickly briefed him as he texted. "He has a small flat not far from the office but he wouldn't be keeping the victim there unless he has no common sense whatsoever, which wouldn't surprise me. Lestrade is going to send some officers to look there anyway."

"If he's not there then where would he keep him?" John asked, taking a seat in his chair.

"Hayes used to own a small bar on the East End of London on Fournier Street. It's abandoned now. It's a good place to keep a kidnapped person. I'm telling Lestrade to head there. I'm positive that's where he'll be." He grinned as he sat down in his own chair.

"Soon it'll be just us again without unwanted tagalongs."

"She was only with us for a couple hours." John pointed out as he picked up the newspaper he hadn't gotten to finish earlier. Sherlock shrugged indifferently.

"Technicality."

Both sat silently for a few minutes when a sudden thought came to Sherlock.

"Where is she?" He asked John. John looked up from the paper and looked around the room as if he expected to see her on the couch.

"She came up to visit L. She was right behind me on the stairs when I came down. I thought she..." He trailed off suddenly.

The sudden panicked look on his face told Sherlock that he was thinking the same as him. They both shot up and ran for the door. John called up to L, letting him know they were going out. He could feel the boy sulking from all the way upstairs but he stayed put like John told him to. They hurriedly called for a cab and clambered in the second it stopped. Sherlock quickly gave the driver directions.

"Fournier Street."

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Baker Street was closer to Fournier Street than Scotland Yard was so they made it there before Lestrade did. The building was eerily quiet but that didn't mean it was empty. The main entrance and windows were boarded up so they made their way to the back of building. The boards on the back door were no longer nailed in but simply propped up against the door. They moved them aside and opened the door as quietly as possible. John pulled his gun out, ready in case the kidnappers actually were armed.

They stepped quietly through the stale, dark room, listening for any indication that they weren't alone. They headed towards the faintly lit doorway on the other side of the room. They tensed as a sudden loud impact then a thud came from the other room. They carefully peeked into the room to see what was happening. They were surprised by what they saw.

Akishi stood over the unconscious Aaron Hayes. She wore this dark, cold expression but didn't seem to have done anything else to him beyond knocking him out. John wondered if she would have done more if they hadn't gotten there when they did. He hoped not.

"Akishi." Sherlock called as he stepped into the room. She jumped and spun around to fully face them. She fiddled with her hands sheepishly as she scrambled to explain herself.

"I uh…I'm sorry. I was worried the police wouldn't get here in time." Sherlock sighed but wasn't really upset. He was thinking he should've realized sooner that she would do such a thing.

"It's over and done with now." Sherlock swept past her, heading towards the only other door in the room. He opened it and immediately saw the victim tied to a chair. He looked so much worse than he did in the photo. He strode forward and removed the man's blindfold and gag.

"Who are you?" Satoshi asked, voice strained and weak.

"Sherlock Holmes. We're here to get you out."

John came forward to help remove the man's restrains. He also looked him over as he did. Thankfully, he wasn't injured but he was weak from hunger and his illness. Akishi stood close by, waiting to help him up from the chair. Her eyes glowed with affection and relief as she stared at him. However, Satoshi didn't seem to recognize her. She kept smiling though.

"Satoshi, it's me. It's Akishi." She spoke so softly and warmly to him, showing all the love she had for him.

"Akishi?" He repeated to himself, looking confused. His confusion was quickly replaced with awed disbelief. He suddenly fell forward into her and hugged her tightly, collapsing onto her entirely. She didn't falter at his weight though; she held him up easily and returned the hug wholeheartedly. They looked so at peace as they held each other close.

The two separated as Lestrade and a few officers finally arrived. The officers went to drag Hayes to a police car while Lestrade stayed to talk with Sherlock. A few paramedics came with a stretcher to bring Satoshi to an ambulance. Akishi followed along, holding Satoshi's hand. She was forced to let go as they carried him into the ambulance.

"I'll see you at the hospital." She promised him before the doors were closed.

"Of course." Satoshi smiled, looking amused as if it were an inside joke between the two. Akishi watched the ambulance drive off before turning to Sherlock, John and Lestrade.

"Is it possible for me to get a lift to the hospital?" She asked Lestrade.

"Sure. I'll have one the officers take you."

"Thank you." She turned to Sherlock then.

"Thank you Sherlock for taking my case. I know I pushed you to but I still appreciate it."

"We're glad he was found unharmed." John said, as he knew Sherlock wouldn't. Sherlock rolled his eyes but Akishi didn't take offense. She smiled at him. She got in the police car and opened the window to say her goodbye.

"Goodbye Sherlock. Goodbye Dr. Watson." She dropped her smile as she addressed Sherlock one last time.

"Remember what I told you Sherlock and say goodbye to L for me."

They watched the car drive off. Lestrade assured them that he'd get the names of the other kidnappers from Hayes and arrest them. They headed back to the flat to let L know that the case was officially over.

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Sherlock had been pacing almost nonstop since that case.

"It just doesn't make sense." Sherlock suddenly exclaimed on the third day.

"What doesn't?" John asked, humoring him.

"He didn't recognize her." He continued pacing back and forth.

"Come again?" John finally looked up at him from his paper. L was now paying attention as well. He had watched Sherlock pace a while the first day but got bored and instead started reading some of the books Mycroft had bought him.

"The victim didn't recognize our client at first. Why?"

"He was weak, maybe his vision was blurry." John reasoned.

"You know it can't be just that. She wasn't even surprised…like she expected it."

"I'm sure you're making a big deal out of nothing." John looked back at the paper.

"You know that's never the case with me, John."

"Isn't it?" Sherlock smirked slightly, momentarily amused by John's quip. John returned the look. Sherlock quickly returned to his original train of thought though. He suddenly headed for the door, grabbing his coat along the way.

"Sherlock, where are you going?" John asked, putting his paper down. He was already getting up to follow regardless of Sherlock's destination.

"The hospital of course. I need to have a word with our former client." John sighed but didn't attempt to discourage him. John noticed L watching and stopped.

"Come on." John urged after a minute of consideration. L smiled and practically jumped up to follow.

It wasn't long before Sherlock was impatiently pushing open the doors of the hospital.

"Which room is Satoshi Takigawa in?" John politely asked the woman behind the desk. She checked her records before responding.

"I'm sorry…Mr. Takigawa passed away yesterday. He had a sudden heart attack."

Thinking of how much the two cared for each other, John felt sorry for Akishi. Sherlock of course dismissed that.

"Did his friend leave a way to contact her?"

"Friend?" The woman looked as lost as she sounded.

"Friend. Caretaker. Lover. Whatever. Did the woman who visited him leave any contact information?" Sherlock snapped irritably.

"There was no woman." Sherlock froze.

"What?"

"The only visitors he had were the police." She elaborated.

Sherlock was left speechless. He didn't even know what to think. It just made no sense. Akishi had gone through so much to rescue Satoshi and clearly cared a great deal for him but never went to visit him in the hospital even though she knew he didn't have long left. They had no choice but to go back to the flat with unanswered questions.

In the end it was an unexpectedly memorable case but not because of the case itself but because of the client, who proved to be the real mystery.

 **Author Note: Sorry if the ending is a bit abrupt and not as detailed. I was really impatient about finishing it.**

 **I apologize if the case made no sense. Mystery, though I hate to admit it, isn't one strong points.**

 **I hope I didn't have John be too open during the nightmare scene. It kind of got away from me.**

 **Once again I used a random street in London.**

 **Please Review.**


	6. The Unusual Puzzle

**Author Note: Finally got this out. I already sent everyone a message apologizing for the long delay but I'll say it again. I'M SORRY.**

 **I actually lost my feel for the story for a bit but thankfully got it back so it didn't take as much longer as I feared.**

 **This chapter follows the episode so most, if not all, of the dialogue will be taken from it but I tried to add a unique twist to what happened so it won't simply be copying.**

 **Not quite sure on the chapter title, might change it later depending on the next chapter.**

 **Disclaimer:** **Death Note and its characters belong to Tsugumi Ohba while Sherlock and its characters belong to Arthur Conan Doyle, Mark Gatiss and Steven Mofatt**

Chapter 6: The Unusual Puzzle

 **BANG! BANG!**

John froze in the entryway at the sound of gunfire. His heart sped up as he ran up the stairs. All his worry turned to irritation once he reached the landing and saw what was happening.

"What the hell are you doing?" He snapped at Sherlock. The pajama clad man held John's gun as he laid limp in his chair.

"Bored." He grumbled.

"What?"

"Bored!" Sherlock cried, jumping to his feet.

John covered his ears as Sherlock proceeded to shoot several shots more at the wall accompanied by exclamations of boredom. Even doing that quickly lost its appeal. Sherlock handed John the gun with an irritated sigh.

John quickly removed the bullets and promised himself to find a better place to keep his gun so there wouldn't be a repeat of this. Knowing Sherlock, he'd find it no matter where he put it just like how he always knew his laptop's password no matter how many times he changed it.

John ignored Sherlock's grumbling as the man threw himself onto the sofa. He stretched out across the cushions, barely fitting with his long legs.

"Where's L? I thought you were playing chess with him." John asked as he sighed at the mess in the kitchen.

"Got bored. Gave him to Mrs. Hudson to go shopping." John frowned.

"He's a person, Sherlock. He's not there just to entertain you. You can't just pass him to someone else once you're done with him." Sherlock hummed but said nothing.

John let out a sigh but dropped the subject for the moment; it was pointless to try and instruct Sherlock on such things when he was like this. Sherlock hadn't had any good cases in a while and the man was getting more and more antsy from lack of stimulation. John just hoped L knew not to take anything the man said personally at this time.

John's thoughts were interrupted at the sight of a severed head in the fridge.

"Oh fu-" John cut himself off as he slammed the fridge door closed. He opened it again a second later to see if he hadn't been hallucinating and that there was actually a head in the fridge. There was.

"A severed head." John called out, seeking an explanation from Sherlock.

"Just tea for me, thanks." Sherlock called back, as if he didn't know what John was talking about.

"There's a head in the fridge!" John cried as he walked back to where Sherlock was still lounging.

"Where else was I supposed to put it?" Sherlock asked, completely unconcerned with John's upset.

"You don't mind, do you?" He suddenly asked though John doubted that he actually cared. He was proven correct as Sherlock went on talking without waiting for John to respond. John didn't really even register what experiment Sherlock was working on now, he was still reeling from shock.

The conversation, if it could be called that, somehow turned to John's written account of their first case together on his blog, which proceeded to turn into an argument. It ended with Sherlock curling up on the sofa with his back to John. Fed up, John decided to leave and get some air. Sherlock had the nerve to ask him where he was going as if they hadn't just had a "little domestic" as Mrs. Hudson calls them. That irritated John all the more. He didn't even say anything to Mrs. Hudson or L as he passed them on the stairs.

L stopped to watch John storm off. He sighed but honestly wasn't surprised. Sherlock, being how he has been lately, was really trying John's patience. John was bound to reach the end of his rope sometime.

L wasn't so fond of the idea of being around Sherlock right then either, especially since he seemed to have resorted to shooting at the wall if the holes in the wallpaper and the smell of gunpowder were any indication. Sherlock sending him shopping with Mrs. Hudson had been a relief but at the same time L was a bit hurt by how Sherlock easily passed him on once he was done with him, like a child bored with a toy.

L didn't nurse the misconception that Sherlock had taken him in out of the goodness of his heart. He was taken in because his intellect had caught Sherlock's interest. It was a bit strange that he had been taken in because of the very thing that had always set him apart from everyone else. It wasn't bad though…it was rather nice really, like his intellect really wasn't something to be ashamed of. However, because of that, he held a constant fear of disappointing Sherlock, of not meeting his expectations. He feared he'd be sent to an orphanage then. With John it wasn't likely but Sherlock might want to.

L walked into the front room and watched as Sherlock stepped on the coffee table in his path to the window. He turned away and carried the shopping to the kitchen as Mrs. Hudson talked with Sherlock.

L carefully placed the bag down on the table, making sure not to knock any of the beakers over. He pulled the eggs out and opened the fridge. The severed head staring back at him startled him. He had forgotten that Sherlock had put that in there earlier. That no doubt didn't sit well with John. He had tried to say as much to Sherlock earlier but L doubted that he heard him, as he was too involved in his thoughts. At least the head wasn't bleeding everywhere so there was no chance of it contaminating any of the food. He still put the eggs on the free shelf as far from the head as possible, mostly to appease John.

"What have you done to my bloody wall?"

L smiled to himself. It seemed Mrs. Hudson finally noticed the spray paint and bullet holes. She didn't even bother scolding Sherlock, she just told him she'd put it on his rent then left. L reached for the rest of the shopping and picked up the milk, wondering if there will be enough room in the fridge with the head in there.

 **BOOM! CRASH!**

L was suddenly thrown forward into the fridge, dropping the milk. His cry was violently cut off as his head slammed into the metal. L bounced back and fell to the ground, head hurting and ears ringing. He heard Sherlock groan as his vision faded in and out for a second. Something must have been knocked loose, as the last thought he had before everything went dark wasn't to question what had happened or whether Sherlock was okay but rather that he was grateful that he hadn't opened the door again; otherwise he might have slammed into the severed head.

John ended up staying the night at Sarah's place. The sofa wasn't that comfortable but he felt a lot better now that he got a bit of a breather from Sherlock's antics. All his relief evaporated once he saw the news. The screen showed the aftermath of an explosion on Baker Street. He was out the door before his thoughts fully set in. He almost didn't remember to let Sarah know he was leaving. The cab had barely stopped before John was clambering out. The sight of the explosion made him freeze in his steps.

"My god."

He stared at the blown building across the street from the flat. There was still a lot of debris on sidewalk and street and many cops still hanging around. The flat itself clearly took some damage as the windows were missing their glass and were now boarded up.

John could easily imagine the glass being blasted inward, embedding itself into Sherlock and L as they were blown off their feet. The sight of an ambulance nearby didn't help to ease his worry. He quickly maneuvered around the lingering officers and made his way into the building. He ran up the stairs, fearing what he would find once he reached the landing.

John will admit what he did find was a bit…anticlimactic, though he was relieved. Sherlock and Mycroft were calmly sitting, staring at each other as if the flat wasn't still in some disarray from the explosion and that Sherlock didn't have a couple cuts on his hands and face from the glass, which were thankfully minor. He dismissed them once he saw that Sherlock was all right and turned his attention on L.

The boy was sitting on the sofa, watching the two. Unfortunately, he hadn't escaped the explosion unscathed like Sherlock. There was a large, angry bruise on the boy's forehead. John stepped forward and gently held his face up towards him to get a good look at it.

"What happened?" Clearly the boy had slammed into something from the force of the blast but John wanted to know just what.

"The explosion blew me into the fridge." L said, keeping his voice low and quiet. No doubt he had a headache if not a concussion.

"Did you feel dizzy or nauseous after?" John asked, keeping calm despite his worry.

"No."

That was good. L didn't seem to show any disorientation or sensitivity to light either. There wasn't too much swelling either thankfully. It seemed he didn't get a concussion though John still planned to keep an eye on him to make sure since he hadn't been there the moment it happened.

"Calm yourself Doctor. I already had the boy looked at." Mycroft drawled. John already assumed as such but still preferred to check himself.

"What happened?" John asked as he stepped back.

"Gas leak, apparently." Sherlock said, absently plucking at his violin. John was quickly forgotten it seemed as Sherlock went back to glaring at Mycroft.

"I can't. The stuff I've got on is just too big. I can't spare the time." Sherlock said. John nearly scoffed, thinking of the bullet holes the wall received just last night. Mycroft of course knew his brother well enough not to believe that.

"Never mind your usual trivia. This is of national importance." Sherlock continued plucking the strings, not budging an inch.

"How's the diet?" He asked instead, smirking slightly. Mycroft sighed but ignored his brother's attempt to irk him.

"Fine." Mycroft decided to try a different tactic. "Perhaps you can get through to him, John." John turned away from examining the damage by the windows to face Mycroft.

"What?" He was completely caught off guard, as he honestly never expected to be dragged right into this brotherly dispute of sorts.

"I'm afraid my brother can be very intransigent." Mycroft continued.

"If you're so keen, why don't you investigate it?" Sherlock snapped slightly.

L silently watched as Mycroft and Sherlock continued back and forth for a bit, subject shifting to John for a minute. Mycroft stood up, holding out a file for Sherlock to take but he just stared stubbornly, clearly still refusing to take the case. Mycroft grimaced slightly then handed it to John instead. John looked down at it, looking uncertain.

"Andrew West, known as Westie to his friends." Mycroft started explaining. Curious about what case Mycroft had for Sherlock, L listened intently. "A civil servant, found dead on the tracks at Battersea Station this morning with his head smashed in."

"Jumped in front of a train?" John reasoned.

"Seems the logical assumption." Mycroft agreed.

"But ...?" John prompted with a brief smile.

"But"?" Mycroft repeated questioningly.

"Well, you wouldn't be here if it was just an accident." Sherlock smirked, proud of John's astuteness.

Mycroft went on the explain that what he wanted was for Sherlock to find the missing missile plans that West had in his possession.

"You've got to find those plans, Sherlock. Don't make me order you." Mycroft said sternly, standing in front of the still sitting detective. Sherlock took a deep breath and placed his violin on his shoulder, ready to play. He started straight into his brother's eyes.

"I'd like to see you try."

Undeterred, Mycroft leaned down into his face.

"Think it over." His tone now clearly held an underlining threat though L wasn't sure just what Mycroft would do if Sherlock still refused him. Sherlock stared back at him, unimpressed. Mycroft turned and picked up his coat off the back of John's chair.

"Goodbye, John." He said as he passed on the way to the door, stopping long enough to shake hands with the doctor. "See you very soon." He said with a very unsettling grin.

L cringed as Sherlock started playing short, ear grating notes, clearly meant to push Mycroft to leave faster. John frowned at Sherlock but silently settled on the coffee table. Knowing he would be drowned out, Mycroft merely nodded L's way as a means of farewell. Sherlock kept playing until Mycroft was down the stairs. He placed his violin in his lap with an annoyed huff. John waited till he heard the front door close before speaking.

"Why'd you lie? You've got nothing on, not a single case. That's why the wall took a pounding. Why did you tell your brother you were busy?"

L felt the question was unnecessary. Sherlock clearly didn't want to take the case simply because it was Mycroft giving it to him; there was clearly some bad history between them. Sherlock shrugged.

"Why shouldn't I?" He replied. John clearly figured it out then as he nodded.

"Oh. Nice." Sherlock's eyes drifted in his direction, prompting him to elaborate.

"Sibling rivalry. Now we're getting somewhere." Sherlock turned and opened his mouth but the sudden ringing of his cell phone interrupted his protests. He irritably fished his phone out of his jacket pocket and answered it. He quietly listened for a bit. The shift of his expression let L know right away who it was.

"Of course. How could I refuse?" He hung up and eagerly sprung off his chair.

"Lestrade. I've been summoned. Coming?" Sherlock asked John as he passed him.

"If you want me to." John stood up, ready to follow. L also got up to follow, knowing that Sherlock expected him to.

"Of course." Sherlock picked up his coat and stopped. He slipped it on and faced John.

"I'd be lost without my blogger." He said with a small grin.

It was a bit of an odd thing for Sherlock to say out of nowhere but the smile on John's face told L there was a reason for it; it looked like Sherlock was trying to make amends for something, most likely whatever set John off last night. Whatever it was, it helped put John in a better mood. He stared after Sherlock with a warm smile as he watched the man rush down the stairs as he waited for L to finish putting on his coat and shoes.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"You like the funny cases, don't you? The surprising ones." Lestrade asked as they followed him to his office.

"Obviously." Sherlock drawled.

"You'll love this. That explosion..."

"Gas leak, yes?"

"No."

"No?" Sherlock actually sounded surprised.

"No. Made to look like one."

"What?" John asked as Sherlock stopped to stare at the white envelope on Lestrade's desk.

"Hardly anything left of the place except a strong box, a very strong box, and inside it was this." Lestrade explained, pointing at the envelope.

"You haven't opened it?" Sherlock asked.

"It's addressed to you, isn't it?"

L frowned at that, feeling very unsettled. The fact that the explosion had something to do with Sherlock didn't bode well. Sherlock seemed to be having similar misgivings as he hesitated slightly before picking it up. L silently watched Sherlock examine the envelope under a lamp before spouting information about it that Scotland Yard wouldn't have bothered with. Sherlock came back over to the desk and picked up a letter opener. L tensed unintentionally as Sherlock carefully slit it open and looked inside. The man's mouth fell open slightly, showing his surprise. He pulled out a pink iPhone. L didn't know what to think but John's reaction wasn't reassuring. The doctor was clearly shocked and not in a good way.

"But that's…that's the phone, the pink phone."

"What, from the Study in Pink?" Lestrade asked, disbelieving. Sherlock had shrugged off his surprise by then and started really looking at the phone.

"Well, obviously it's not the same phone but it's supposed to look like-" Sherlock stopped suddenly and faced Lestrade just as Donovan came into the office with files in hand.

"The Study in Pink? You read his blog?" Sherlock asked, looking surprised and a bit offended.

"Course I read his blog! We all do. D'you really not know that the Earth goes round the Sun?" Lestrade asked, looking rather skeptical but at the same time not so much.

Donovan sniggered loudly, not at all attempting to hide her amusement. Having developed a rather low opinion of the woman from her treatment of Sherlock, L openly glared at her but she didn't notice. Sherlock also glared at her as he took off his gloves but she clearly didn't care. John looked notably embarrassed but stayed quiet. Sherlock clearly didn't take too kindly to what John had written in his blog but L still planned on checking it out later if John let him use his laptop.

Sherlock waited till Donovan left the room before focusing back on the phone. He turned it every which way, taking in every detail of it.

"It isn't the same phone. This one's brand new. Someone's gone to a lot of trouble to make it look like the same phone, which means your blog has a far wider readership." He threw John a sharp look but John did his best to ignore it. Sherlock finally switched on the phone.

"You have one new message." L moved closer, cautiously curious. From the phone came four short pips then a long pip.

"Is that it?" John asked, clearly not understanding the meaning of the message.

"No. That's not it." Sherlock said, looking down at the phone. Lestrade and John joined him in looking at the phone but L was stuck waiting for someone to show him. He didn't speak up this time though as the thoughtful look on Sherlock's face showed he was already turning whatever it was over in his mind and L didn't wish to interrupt. Lestrade clearly had no issue doing so.

"What the hell are we supposed to make of that? An estate agent's photo and the bloody Greenwich pips!" He asked, angrily.

"It's a warning." Sherlock said, still gazing thoughtfully down at the phone. L had that bad feeling again.

"A warning?" John asked, looking just as concerned as L now.

"Some secret societies used to send dried melon seeds, orange pips, things like that. Five pips. They're warning us it's gonna happen again." Sherlock quickly explained. He paused to glance down at the phone once more.

"I've seen this place before." He started for the door. L, John and Lestrade quickly followed.

"H-hang on. What's gonna happen again?" Sherlock stopped and raised his hands dramatically.

"Boom!"

L finally got a glimpse of the photo on the phone in the cab ride back to Baker Street. The fact they were going to Baker Street was a big indication of the location of the photo so he wasn't surprised when Sherlock stopped in front of the door that read 221c and called out for Mrs. Hudson. The fact that the bomber chose this location was very concerning; L really got the feeling that this truly was all about Sherlock and that didn't sit well with him. Mrs. Hudson opened the door for them and was quickly left in the hallway without a word of thanks.

They slowly walked down the stairs and entered the dark, rather dreary living room. The room looked exactly as it did in the photograph on the phone with one exception. In the middle of the floor was a pair of trainers. Sherlock went to move towards them but John held out a hand to stop him.

"He's a bomber, remember." John cautioned, standing tense and rigid.

Sherlock stopped for a moment then continued slowly towards the trainers and John reluctantly let him. Sherlock crouched down then put his hands on the floor and leaned forward. He lowered his body further and got even closer. L watched, just as tense as John and Lestrade, worried there would be another explosion but this time with them as casualties. The phone rang suddenly, making them all jump, even Sherlock tensed in surprise. He remained on the floor for a second then stood up. He pulled out the iPhone and looked down at it. He paused for a second then switched on the speaker.

"Hello?" He said softly into the phone. They all heard a woman draw a shaky breath before speaking.

"H-hello...sexy." The woman was clearly crying but her words didn't fit…like they weren't her own.

"Who's this?" Sherlock asked, looking unsettled but overall composed.

"I've…sent you...a little puzzle...just to say hi." L frowned, feeling this ominous dread form.

"Who's talking? Why are you crying?"

"I-I'm not...crying...I'm typing...and this...stupid...bitch...is reading it out." Seemed L's hunch was right and no doubt Sherlock already figured that out as well.

"The curtain rises." Sherlock said softly to himself.

"What?" John asked a bit tensely.

"I've been expecting this for some time." Sherlock explained, turning his head minutely in their direction before focusing solely on the phone call again.

"Twelve hours to solve...my puzzle, Sherlock...or I'm going...to be...so naughty." The phone went dead then, leaving them all in tense silence. L couldn't shake this heavy feeling in his gut, which felt all the heavier as Sherlock eagerly but carefully bagged the shoes and left.

The ride to Barts Hospital was silent as Sherlock was completely absorbed in his thoughts on the case. John also seemed to have some thoughts of his own dwelling on his mind and L had a pretty good idea what they were. Sherlock brought the trainers to one of the labs at the hospital and examined them carefully. L silently watched as he dug something from the treads and placed it under a microscope.

The room was silent for a long while as Sherlock continued to run tests. John had started pacing back and forth a while ago, still dwelling on his thoughts. He finally stopped and turned to Sherlock just as Sherlock's cell phone let off a text alert, which went ignored.

"So, who d'you suppose it was?"

"Hmm?" Sherlock didn't even look up.

"The woman on the phone, the crying woman." John elaborated, voice tense.

L sighed to himself. He understood what John was doing but those sorts of things just didn't really matter to Sherlock often. It wasn't that he didn't care as L found out; it just usually wasn't his first priority. He really thought John would have realized that by now. L sagged in his crouch on his seat, preparing himself for an upcoming argument.

"Oh, she doesn't matter. She's just a hostage. No lead there." L winced at Sherlock's tone, which was clipped and emotionless; he knew that would set John off.

"For God's sake, I wasn't thinking about leads." John's exasperated tone at least let Sherlock know what John really meant.

"You're not going to be much use to her." Sherlock said, unknowingly cutting deep.

John flinched, fists clenching unconsciously. John bit his lip and silently turned away. The fact he didn't immediately snap at Sherlock showed that John knew the man meant nothing by his words but that didn't make them any less painful. Sherlock was too busy to notice John's reaction. L wanted to say something but really didn't know what. Sherlock's phone going off again derailed the whole thing.

"Pass me my phone." Sherlock said to neither of them in particular.

L saw the way John was still a bit off so he hopped up and went to fulfill Sherlock's request. He remembered the man had left his phone in his jacket earlier. He rolled his eyes when he saw that the man was wearing said jacket still and was fully capable of retrieving the phone himself. L said nothing though as he opened Sherlock's jacket enough for him to slip a hand inside the inner pocket. He pulled the phone out. He glanced at it and saw eight messages from Mycroft. The man really wanted Sherlock to find those missile plans. He handed the phone to Sherlock who took it without a word. Honestly, L felt as if he didn't exist with the way Sherlock barely acknowledged him but that wasn't really something new for Sherlock. L had seen him do that to John numerous times. L stood there and watched Sherlock delete the messages from his brother before placing the phone down on the counter.

"Maybe you should-" L started to suggest but Sherlock cut him off.

"Missile plans are out of the country now. Nothing we can do about it."

"Your brother seems to think differently." John said as he walked up behind L to join in. Sherlock finally lifted his head with a groan.

"Look, Andrew West stole the missile plans, tried to sell them, got his head smashed in for his pains. End of story. The only mystery is this: why is my brother so determined to bore me when somebody else is being so delightfully interesting?" His focus was once more on the microscope, clearly deeming the conversation over.

"Try and remember there's a woman here who might die."

There went John stirring it all up again. L couldn't really blame him. Sherlock's seemingly complete disregard for the woman was a concern. However, L was more worried about his interest in the bomber, especially since the bomber seemed to have an interest in Sherlock as well. He had the feeling it wouldn't end well. Sherlock looked back up at John.

"What for? This hospital's full of people dying, _Doctor._ " L winced at the cold disdain in his voice as he emphasized John's title.

"Why don't you go and cry by their bedside and see what good it does them?"

John just stared at him in complete disbelief. L caught the hurt in his eyes before the doctor turned away and no doubt Sherlock caught it too. There was a flash of regret on the man's face but the beeping of the computer distracted him. Sherlock gave a delighted cry as he turned to the computer. It was then that a woman came into the lab.

"Any luck?" She asked. The familiarity she spoke towards Sherlock and the lab coat she wore told L she was Molly Hooper, who Sherlock had mentioned once in passing.

"Oh, yes!" Sherlock glowed with triumph. Molly came over to look at the screen. However, they were all distracted as a man entered the room behind her. The thirty something year old wore slacks and a t-shirt and had an overall unassuming look. He stopped when he spotted them.

"Oh, sorry. I didn't..." He trailed off, smiling apologetically.

"Jim! Hi!" Molly exclaimed, surprised even though the man had clearly been right behind her. She stopped him when he tried to leave.

"Come in! Come in!" She seemed much too eager in L's opinion. Sherlock gave her and the man a brief look over but didn't really acknowledge them any further. Apparently unaware of Sherlock's, in L's mind, obvious lack of interest, Molly introduced the man.

"Jim, this is Sherlock Holmes." The way she said Sherlock's name with such obvious pride despite having no real relation to him that L could see spoke of her affections for him. L immediately felt sorry for her.

"Ah!" Jim let out a delighted gasp and moved closer. John, looking much better now that there was something to distract him from the upset earlier, caught Molly's attention. She stared at him blankly for a minute, clearly failing to remember his name and embarrassed by the fact.

"John Watson. Hi." John introduced himself, trying to save her from the embarrassment though L was sure the man Jim already noticed. He kept smiling though.

"Hi."

John was quickly forgotten as Jim turned his eyes on Sherlock, who was actively trying to ignore them all by staring into the microscope again. There was a gleam in Jim's eyes that unnerved L. Jim moved closer to Sherlock and it was then that he noticed L, who had been mostly hidden from sight by Sherlock as he was still standing right next to him. The man's smile grew as he leaned over L's way.

"Hello and who might you be?"

The man's tone was friendly and pleasant and yet L found himself stepping away. L forgot that John was right behind him so he ended up bumping into the doctor as he took a couple steps back. John instinctively reached out to keep him from falling over. Having the doctor's hand on his shoulder was comforting; it made L feel safe. The reason why he needed the doctor to feel safe in that exact moment escaped him though. Something just didn't feel right about the man still leaning forward into his space but L couldn't figure out why.

Jim frowned a second at L's response but then grinned with that same gleam from earlier in his eyes. L wanted to hide behind John then but he stood his ground as Jim reached forward and ruffled his hair.

"How cute." He said. He stepped back then and turned back to Sherlock. L let out a faint sigh of relief, as the weight of the man's gaze was no longer on him.

"So you're Sherlock Holmes. Molly's told me all about you. You on one of your cases?" Jim was a bit too interested in L's opinion.

"Jim works in I.T. upstairs. That's how we met. Office romance." Molly butted in, finally getting over the shock of seeing a child with Sherlock and the possible implications of it.

The real reason she wanted to introduce was so clear that L was sure even John realized it. Attempting to make Sherlock jealous was doomed for failure though; Molly clearly didn't know Sherlock well at all. Sherlock looked Jim over again.

"Gay." Molly's expectant smile faded.

"Sorry, what?"

Sherlock actually lifted his head at her sudden change in tone and tried to rectify the situation, which was rather startling. Perhaps he cared more for Molly than L first suspected.

"Um, hey." Sherlock said to Jim with an attempted smile.

"Hey." Jim replied with that same admiring smile. He lowered his hand and ended up knocking over a metal dish. He scrambled to pick it up, apologizing all the while. Sherlock was clearly irritated now but didn't say anything. Jim put the dish back on the table and wandered back to Molly.

"Well, I'd better be off. I'll see you at The Fox, 'bout six-ish?"

"Yeah!" Molly enthusiasm was much too exaggerated to be natural, further proving that she was just trying to make Sherlock jealous.

"It was nice to meet you." Jim called out to Sherlock but he didn't spare him another look. Jim's eyes fell on L as he turned to leave. They didn't linger though thankfully. Molly waited till the door closed behind Jim before facing Sherlock.

"What d'you mean, gay? We're together." She said emphasized with a forced smile. She clearly wasn't going to let her attempt go just yet.

"And domestic bliss must suit you, Molly. You've put on three pounds since I last saw you." Even L knew not to mention a woman's weight but either Sherlock didn't know or simply didn't care.

"Sherlock…" John chided gently, barely heard as Molly immediately protested angrily.

"He's not gay. Why d'you have to spoil…? He's not."

Sherlock went on to give reasons only he would have noticed as to how Jim was gay. Molly and John clearly weren't accepting them though. So he went for the final, least dismissible reason. He reached for the metal dish that Jim knocked over and picked up the small card underneath it.

"Plus the extremely suggestive fact that he just left his number under this dish here. I'd say you'd better break it off now and save yourself the pain." Molly stared at him then ran from the room. Sherlock stared after her, notably startled.

"Charming. Well done." John praised him sarcastically.

"Just saving her time. Isn't that kinder?" Sherlock asked, looking lost. He honestly believed that he was doing something kind for Molly.

"Kinder? No, no, Sherlock. That wasn't kind." John was obviously still upset about earlier as well as what just happened with Molly. Sherlock dropped it and looked down at the trainers. He glanced at L then at John. He hesitated then moved one of the trainers closer to John.

"Go on, then." He elaborated at John's confused look. "You know what I do." He sat back and folded his arms expectantly. John simply stared at him a second, still piecing it together. He glared once he did.

"No" He snapped, agitated. "I'm not gonna stand here so you can humiliate me while I try and disseminate-"

"An outside eye, a second opinion. It's very useful to me." Sherlock gently interrupted.

L smiled. He knew what Sherlock was doing. Sherlock saw that John hated being useless and was trying to provide him with a chance to be of use. It was also a way for him to apologize for earlier. It was rather touching to be honest. John doubted Sherlock at first but must have figured it out as well, as he stepped forward with a grateful but still uncertain smile. He slowly looked the trainer over, not sure what to really look for. L walked away and took a seat as John started sharing his observations. They were rather impressive but L always knew that John wasn't an idiot and Sherlock knew it too though John still surprised him at times. The man stared at John with a proud smile that John didn't see as he was focused solely on the trainer in his hand.

"How did I do?" John asked, looking a bit sheepish but hoping for approval and praise.

"Well, John, really well." Sherlock replied honestly.

"I mean, you missed almost everything of importance, but, um, you know..." Sherlock was being sarcastic but it seemed to go right over John's head. He shook his head and shoved the trainer into Sherlock's hand. Sherlock went into deduction mode.

"The owner loved these. Scrubbed them clean, whitened them where they got discolored. Changed the laces three...no, four times." Sherlock either ignored or didn't notice John put his hands on the table and lower his head in obvious despair at having missed that.

"Even so, there are traces of his flaky skin where his fingers have come into contact with them, so he suffered from eczema. Shoes are well worn, more so on the inside, which means the owner had weak arches. British-made, twenty years old."

"Twenty years?" John asked, straightening up.

"They're not retro, they're original."

"But there's still mud on them. They look new." John pointed out.

"Someone's kept them that way. Quite a bit of mud caked on the soles. Analysis shows it's from Sussex, with London mud overlaying it. So, the kid who owned these trainers came to London from Sussex twenty years ago and left them behind."

"So what happened to him?" John asked.

"Something bad." Sherlock said with a thoughtful frown. "He loved those shoes, remember. He'd never leave them filthy. Wouldn't leave them and go unless he had to. So a child with big feet gets..." He suddenly trailed off, staring into space.

"Oh." He let out a soft breath. L perked up, knowing Sherlock had figured it out.

"What?" L asked.

"Carl Powers." Sherlock's tone remained soft.

"Sorry, who?" John asked, looking mildly concerned by Sherlock's strange reaction.

"Carl Powers, John." Sherlock repeated.

"It's where I began."

That fully cemented it in L's mind. All of this was indeed about Sherlock. Whoever the bomber was knew far more about Sherlock than should be possible; he wasn't to be underestimated by any means. The foreboding feeling L had since the beginning escalated. At that point, he truly wondered whether they'd make it through this case alive or not.

 **Author Note: I originally planned to have the whole episode as one chapter but felt I kept you all waiting long enough and honestly I didn't realize how long of a chapter it would have been. Hope to finish the episode with the next chapter but not certain, it'll depend on how much I skip and gloss over.**

 **L relies more on his instincts at this point while Sherlock relies on deduction so I got the feeling L would be suspicious of Moriarty right from the start but wouldn't know why.**

 **I know L didn't get much dialogue in this chapter but there is a reason and it will be addressed in the next chapter.**

 **Please Review.**


	7. The Unusual Game

**Author Note: Here we go! I finally found time to work on this chapter. You'll notice this has the same chapter title as the previous chapter and that's because I felt this fit this chapter better so I changed the other one.**

 **Sorry in advance for any mistakes.**

 **Warnings: Spoilers for series 1 and 2**

 **Disclaimer:** **Death Note and its characters belong to Tsugumi Ohba while Sherlock and its characters belong to Arthur Conan Doyle, Mark Gatiss and Steven Mofatt**

Chapter 7: The Unusual Game

L listened pensively as Sherlock explained that Carl Powers was a kid who drowned back in 1989 during a sports tournament. It was ruled a tragic accident.

"You remembered it though. Something fishy about it?" John asked.

"Nobody thought so; nobody except me. I was only a kid myself. I read about it in the papers. The boy, Carl Powers, had some kind of fit in the water, but by the time they got him out it was too late. But there was something wrong; something I couldn't get out of my head."

"What?"

"His shoes. They weren't there. I made a fuss; I tried to get the police interested, but nobody seemed to think it was important. He'd left all the rest of his clothes in his locker, but there was no sign of his shoes..." He leant down and picked up the bag containing the trainers.

"...until now."

Sherlock shut himself up in the kitchen the moment they made it to the flat. L got the feeling he would be unintentionally ignored if he tried to help so he didn't. He stayed in the living room and watched John pace back and forth. He stopped when his phone suddenly pinged. He pulled it out and glanced at it. He turned and slid open one of the doors.

"Your brother's texting me now." He frowned. "How does he know my number?" He mumbled to himself. Sherlock ignored him and kept looking at the papers riddling the table.

"Look, he did say 'national importance.' You can't just ignore it."

"I'm not ignoring it. Putting my best man onto it right now." Sherlock smirked to himself.

"Good." John relaxed, looking pleased.

L shook his head as it slowly sunk in just whom Sherlock meant. All protests were ignored though so John was soon walking out the door to meet with Mycroft.

L sat in the sitting room, staring into the kitchen. Sherlock was silently working again, completely shut off from any distractions. L knew that he wouldn't be noticed even if he stood right at Sherlock's elbow and called out. The thought made the quiet of the flat, broken by slight, sudden shifts of paper, suddenly unbearable and made L feel so alone. Normally, such a feeling wouldn't bother him, as it was comforting in its familiarity but not this time.

It wasn't a very wise decision in the long run and a rather impulsive one at that but L still hopped off the couch and slipped on his sneakers. There was no point in looking back into the kitchen but L still did before making his way down the stairs and out the door. Sherlock never looked up from his work.

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L easily walked down the street without anyone stopping to ask whether he was lost or not. It was familiar and reminded L of when he slept in alleyways and people walked by without stopping or even sparing him a glance. L did get some curious looks this time around but that was no doubt because his clean clothes meant he wasn't some homeless kid. However, even then nobody was willing to waste his or her time getting involved.

L had no destination in mind when he left the flat so he just kept walking. He felt his shoulders hunch more than usual the further he went as the numerous people and building-lined streets crowded him. He left the flat to escape the stifling silence and loneliness but now he just needed to get away from all the people. He sped up his pace but kept himself from breaking out into a run.

He found relief in the park not too far from the flat. The darkening clouds deterred people from lingering long in the park so L was able to find a nice place to sit alone. He was still able to hear the bustling of the streets so there was little fear of the silence coming back. It was a weird feeling, the need to not be alone but at the same time not wanting to be near anyone…or maybe he just wanted to be with someone in particular.

He shook his head at himself, disappointed in his dependence on Sherlock and John's attention. He couldn't be the center of their focus all the time; it was foolish and selfish of him to think otherwise, especially with Sherlock being the way he is. Honestly, L thought he had already accepted this but apparently not.

Soft footsteps L's way drew him from his thoughts. L looked up from the grass and found Jim standing over him with a smile. L's heart jumped in his chest and he scrambled to his feet without thinking. The pounding of his heart told L that his unexplained fear of the man that day in the lab wasn't a fluke or just nerves from meeting a stranger. The fear was made all the stronger as L was in a very vulnerable position in being practically alone with the man. L wasn't sure the small family near the other side of the park would be of much help to him if he needed it. He didn't know why the man unnerved him so but L wasn't about to ignore his instincts. He was sure his anxiety was visible on his face but Jim's smile only grew.

"Well hello there. We meet at Barts, remember?" L could only stare as his mind scrambled to find a means of escape. Jim looked around.

"Is Sherlock not with you?" L took a subtle deep breath and forced himself to speak.

"No." There was no point in lying, as he clearly was alone.

"And that other guy…? What was his name?" Jim cupped his chin as he apparently tried to remember John's name. It wasn't surprising that the man didn't remember it; he seemed pretty mesmerized by Sherlock at the time, barely paying John and Molly any attention.

"No…John's not here either." L responded, keeping his voice as steady as possible. Jim frowned.

"It's not very safe for a child to wander around by themselves." He softly scolded. L didn't feel the need to respond but didn't need to as the dark clouds finally owned up to their promise, drawing their attention elsewhere for a moment. Jim tilted his head back and watched the rain while L tensely watched him, barely noticing how his shirt was starting to cling to him.

"You better head home before something bad happens to you." The man said without lowering his head. L couldn't see his expression from his angle but he doubted it was a pleasant one. L nodded and started walking off at a casual pace that took all his control to maintain.

"Do you need an escort?" Jim asked as he fell into step with him.

"No. I'll be fine. I didn't go too far." L didn't like revealing even that much but it wasn't like Sherlock's location wasn't already known. Jim hummed to himself, grinning.

"If you're sure…" Jim stopped, allowing L to continue on his way alone. L resisted the urge to look back but didn't really need to. L shuddered as the weight of the man's gaze lingered on him during his trek out the park. L couldn't shake the feeling that he hadn't gotten away but rather Jim, whatever his intentions, had simply let him go.

The walk back was easier as there were no longer any crowds to maneuver through but now there was an added danger to it. L knew he could be easily kidnapped off the empty streets just like he may have almost been back at the park so he hurried back. Thankfully, the rain didn't last long so L wasn't too soaked when he slipped back through the door.

L lingered at the bottom of the stairs, listening to see whether John had returned yet or not. The silence didn't necessarily mean that the coast was clear but L knew he couldn't linger downstairs forever. He climbed the stairs and peeked into the sitting room. It was empty and Sherlock was still working in the kitchen so he climbed the remaining stairs up to his and John's room. He changed out of his wet clothes and into some fresh ones. He snagged a towel from the bathroom and sat back on the couch, drying his hair. His hair was nearly dry when John entered the flat.

The man looked weary; no doubt the meeting with Mycroft tired him out. John glanced his way as he removed his damp coat and stopped. Despite what Sherlock might say at times, the doctor was not an idiot. He clearly figured out what the damp towel in L's hands and his change of clothes meant. L said nothing, knowing no explanation would sufficiently excuse him. John's stern expression hinted at an upcoming scolding or lecture but Sherlock unintentionally saved L from such an experience.

"Clostridium botulinum!" The detective yelled, slamming his hands on the table. "It's one of the deadliest poisons on the planet!" He continued as John and L were drawn to the kitchen.

"Poison? Are you saying Carl Powers was murdered?" John asked.

"Remember the shoelaces?" John nodded. "The boy suffered from eczema. It'd be the easiest thing in the world to introduce the poison into his medication. Two hours later he comes up to London, the poison takes effect, paralyses the muscles and he drowns." Sherlock wandered over to his laptop as he spoke and started typing something.

"There were traces of the poison inside the trainers, which is why they had to go." Both men glanced over at the trainers.

"The killer kept the shoes all these years." John mumbled, piecing it together.

"Yes. Meaning..."

"He's our bomber." John finished, looking a bit pale. The pink phone rang, heightening the tension of the room. Sherlock hurried over to answer it. The woman's voice came clearly over the speaker.

"Well done, you. Come and get me." The woman started crying, relieved.

"Where are you? Tell us where you are."

Sherlock quickly relayed the woman's location to Lestrade. John leaned heavily against the table, no doubt relived that the woman would survive. L was also relieved but he didn't doubt that Sherlock would solve it in time; perhaps his faith fell into hero worship category but it wasn't like Sherlock didn't have the skills to warrant such worship.

L went to leave the room but a firm hand on his shoulder stopped him. He tensed at the initial touch but knew he wasn't in danger. He calmly turned to face John. The man's stern expression told him that the doctor hadn't forgotten his scolding.

"I won't do it again." L reassured as the man opened his mouth. L meant what he said and clearly John realized that, as he said nothing. He nodded and let L go. L left the room, thoughts on the bomber and just what he was hoping to accomplish.

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They went to Scotland Yard in the morning to see if they could get any clues regarding the bomber from the woman's account of what happened.

"She lives in Cornwall. Two men broke in wearing masks, forced her to drive to the car park and decked her out in enough explosives to take down a house. Told her to phone you. She had to read out from this pager." Lestrade informed them, placing the pager on the desk in front of John.

"And if she deviated by one word, the sniper would set her off." Sherlock said, glancing down at the pager.

"Or if you hadn't solved the case." John picked up the pager, looking it over. Sherlock walked over to the window of Lestrade's office, which provided a view of the main office.

"Oh. Elegant." The man said softly to himself.

L couldn't contain his flinch. It was a well thought out set up, L could agree to that, but even so…to hear Sherlock complimenting such methods was…disturbing. It wasn't anything out of the ordinary for Sherlock as shown by his prioritizing the case over the safety of the hostage but this time it just felt wrong…like the bomber was seeking approval and praise from him. The intimacy of the whole thing was very off-putting.

"Elegant?" John asked, looking disturbed himself. Lestrade seemed unaware of the tension as he kept on talking.

"But what was the point? Why would anyone do this?"

"Oh, I can't be the only person in the world that gets bored." Sherlock continued. The pink phone beeped, letting them know that there was a new message. They all focused on Sherlock as he pulled the phone out. Sherlock walked towards the desk as the pips came from the phone again but this time…

"Four pips." John pointed out.

"First test passed, it would seem. Here's the second." John and Lestrade crowded around Sherlock to get a look at what was on the phone. L was really starting to hate how vertically challenged he was. Donovan entered the office while the men were looking over the phone.

"Freak, it's for you." She said, holding up another phone.

Sherlock moved into the main office to take the call, leaving L and John to watch his expressions to get a feel for what is being said, which wasn't easy as he kept his back mostly to them. L and John both made for the door at about the same time as they caught a glimpse of Sherlock's sharp expression. John stood near Sherlock, looking concerned, while L strained his ears, trying to catch at least a smidgeon of what Sherlock was hearing.

"And you've stolen another voice, I presume." Sherlock said into the phone.

"…"

"Who are you? What's that noise?"

L hated not hearing the other end of the conversation. Whatever the response was must have been bad as Sherlock paled the slightest bit and L caught a quick flash of dread in the man's eyes. In a way it was nice to see that Sherlock was reminded, if he had forgotten, which L hoped he hadn't, that this bomber was putting peoples' lives at risk, he wasn't to be admired.

"We've found it." Lestrade said as he exited his office. Sherlock lingered a moment with the phone to his ear before following.

The next case that the bomber gave Sherlock to solve started with a car with blood-smeared seats. The blood belonged to a man named Ian Monkford. However, there was no body to be found. L tried to keep up with what Sherlock was investigating but kept getting distracted and offended by Donovan's attempts at convincing John to stop hanging around Sherlock. L was happy to leave her behind as they went on to investigate Janus Cars, whose business card was found in the glove box. They questioned the owner about Mr. Monkford then Sherlock went and analyzed the blood from the car seats at Barts.

Sherlock easily pieced it all together after that. Turned out that Janus Cars helped Mr. Monkford to relocate to Columbia and his wife was in on it. L grinned as Sherlock explained all the little details that he caught while speaking with the owner and how he discovered that the blood had been frozen at one point, meaning it had been taken beforehand and wasn't at all fresh.

"I am on fire!" Sherlock triumphantly cried as he left the scene. L couldn't help but agree.

The hostage was safely recovered but no new information was gotten about the bomber but that wasn't surprising. The next morning they managed to have a bit of a breather from the whole thing, well at least John and L did. Sherlock was impatiently drumming his fingers on the café table while staring at the phone. L looked up from his jammed toast and frowned. John spoke before he could.

"Has it occurred to you...?"

"Probably." Sherlock cut him off impatiently. John shook his head and continued anyway.

"Has it occurred to you that the bomber's playing a game with you? The envelope, breaking into the other flat, the dead kid's shoes…it's all meant for you." L nearly had a Sherlock moment but just barely kept his eyes from rolling at John's stating the obvious.

"Yes, I know." Sherlock said with a smile that was once again off-putting to L.

"Is it him, then? Moriarty?" John asked. L had heard from the two about Moriarty and was pretty certain that he was involved if not directly responsible.

"Perhaps." Sherlock said simply, not really paying much attention.

Any semblance of peace was broken as the phone beeped. Sherlock swiftly picked it up. There were three pips this time, confirming that it was indeed counting down. L didn't want to think about what would happen when they reached the last pip.

The next case was the death of television celebrity Connie Prince and this time the hostage was a blind, old woman. L was just as horrified as John but once again Sherlock put the case at the forefront of his mind. L liked to think that was Sherlock's own way of caring; solving the case as quickly as possible in order to save the old woman. Prince's body was laid out on a table at Bart's morgue for them to look at. L hated to admit it but he needed a small footstool to get a proper look but he was determined to be of some help this time around.

"According to one of her staff, Raoul de Santos, she cut her hand on a rusty nail in the garden. Nasty wound. Tetanus bacteria enters the bloodstream. Good night Vienna." They looked at said wound.

"Something's wrong with this picture." Sherlock declared. "Can't be as simple as it seems, otherwise the bomber wouldn't be directing us towards it. Something's wrong."

L agreed. He scanned everywhere his eyes could see, trying to find anything of importance. There were several scratches on her arm and these tiny pinpricks in her forehead. His instincts were telling him to focus on the pinpricks. He turned to point them out to Sherlock and John. Sherlock had probably already noticed them but L still felt the need to say something and contribute in some way. John was already heading for the door though and Sherlock was close behind with eager steps.

L reached out and tugged on Sherlock's sleeve. His weak grip on the fabric was broken as Sherlock continued on without stopping; the man was so caught up in the whirl of his own thoughts that he didn't notice him. L silently stared after him then deflated with a quiet sigh. Sherlock's constant disregard of L's existence since the start of the case, unintentional or not, was really starting to wear on him; it made L feel like a waste of space. L said nothing though and just scurried to catch up. He passed John as the man lingered in near the door, watching him. He acknowledged the man's troubled frown but still kept his silence; he wasn't the type to go spouting his problems to others and would instead keep it all bottled up. Not very a very effective solution perhaps but it was still his way.

John went to speak with Connie Prince's brother. Sherlock ran off to do his own thing without stopping to wait for L so L was stuck sitting awkwardly on the brother's couch, actively ignoring the man's attempts at flirting with John. The man wasn't at all discouraged that a child was present; the man probably thought him too naïve to understand all the implications in his body language and speech. Oh how L wished he were. John was clearly uncomfortable and not at all interested but still stuck it out for the sake of the case.

The cat that refused to leave John's lap seemed to spark something in the doctor. L remembered the scratches on Prince's arm and understood what John was thinking. L had also caught the smell of disinfectant that lingered on the cat but didn't really think it was the actual method of murder. John still called Sherlock though. Despite how the man had been earlier with L at the lab, he still came running to check out what John had found. L was a bit envious of that but it didn't last long. Turned out that Sherlock had already solved the case.

The culprit was Raoul de Santos and the method was botulinum toxin, same with Carl Powers. Raoul used Prince's Botox injections to get the toxin into her system, which was what those pinpricks on her forehead were from. Sherlock was once again on a high from solving the case but John didn't share his joy.

"How long?" John tensely asked as he stopped Sherlock just outside Lestrade's office. L lingered just before the door, unsure whether he should leave them or not.

"What?" Sherlock asked, apparently unaware of the anger emanating from the doctor.

"How long have you known?"

"Well, this one was quite simple, actually. The bomber repeated himself. That was a mistake." Sherlock explained as he always did, unaware of how that only angered John more. Sherlock moved past John but the doctor stopped him once again.

"But Sherlock the hostage, the old woman…she's been there all this time." John elaborated, getting right to the heart of his upset since Sherlock wasn't getting it. Sherlock leant close to the doctor and gave him an intense stare. He spoke quickly and forcefully.

"I _knew_ I could save her. I also knew that the bomber had given us _twelve hours_. I solved the case quickly and that gave me time to get on with other things Don't you see? We're one up on him!"

Sherlock stepped back and entered Lestrade's office, leaving John to silently purse his lips in frustration. John spotted L then, who couldn't bring himself to move during the whole thing. John gave L a slightly helpless look but L could only shrug; if John couldn't change Sherlock's ways then he doubted he could. Besides, there was some logic to what Sherlock said, cold logic maybe but logic nonetheless. John sighed before slipping into the office with L close behind. Sherlock was just finishing typing into his website. The pink phone rang not even a second later. L was still unsettled by how it seemed the bomber was sitting around just waiting for Sherlock to solve his little puzzles.

"Hello?" Sherlock carefully answered. "Tell us where you are. Address." Sherlock instructed the old woman, looking a bit disinterested as if he was just performing a necessity that he cared little for. All disinterest died in a second. Sherlock now spoke urgently into the phone.

"No, no, no, no. Tell me nothing about him. Nothing." He paused. "Hello?"

L didn't need to see Sherlock's pinched expression to know. Sherlock slowly lowered the phone, staring silently forward. Lestrade sighed and John braced a hand on the back of Sherlock's chair. No one said anything…what could they say?

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The next morning they all solemnly sat and watched the news. The explosion hadn't just killed the old woman but also twelve other people as well. The sight of the explosion was hard to look at.

"He certainly gets about." John said, sending a pointed look Sherlock's way. It proved futile though.

"Well, obviously I lost that round, although technically I did solve the case." Sherlock insisted coolly, but there was a slight shakiness to his voice that L managed to pick out. It was a relief to hear…despite what Sherlock said, he did care; it's a shame that L needed so many reassurances of that fact. Sherlock picked up the remote and muted the volume.

"He killed the old lady because she started to describe him. Just once, he put himself in the firing line."

"What d'you mean?"

"Well, usually, he must stay above it all. He organizes these things but no-one ever has direct contact." Sherlock explained.

"So people come to him wanting their crimes fixed up, like booking a holiday?" John asked, a bit blown away by the idea.

"Novel." Sherlock whispered softly, face full of admiration and L suddenly couldn't take it anymore. That old woman and those other people had been killed and Sherlock was still talking as if the bomber was a wondrous marvel. He stormed from the room and up the stairs to his room, slamming the door behind him. It wasn't at all satisfying since he was sure only John understood why he was so upset.

Sherlock watched L leave but made no move to go after him. He turned his gaze back onto the television but what it was showing didn't really interest him. John also didn't move to follow but for a different reason. He was just as furious as L but wasn't about to hold it in. John stood up and turned a fierce glare on Sherlock.

"There are lives at stake, Sherlock, actual human lives. Do you care about that at all?"

"Will caring about them help save them?" Sherlock asked tensely, giving John an irritated look.

"Nope." John admitted, too angry to be saddened by that fact.

"Then I'll continue not to make that mistake." Sherlock said, voice firm.

"And you find that easy, do you?" John asked, slight contempt seeping into his words.

"Yes, very." Sherlock gave John a snidely cynical look. "Is that news to you?" John smiled but it was more bitter than anything else.

"No."

They silently locked eyes as tension hung in the air. John spoke again when Sherlock turned away.

"And what about L?" John asked, voice still tense and heated.

"What about him?"

"You took him in because of his intellect, I understand that but you've barely looked at him since this case started. Now that someone just as smart comes along you just toss him aside. Do you not care about him either?"

"No…I don't." Sherlock said, staring unwaveringly at John. He could hear Akishi calling him a liar in his head but didn't take back his words. John turned away, clenching his fists. Sherlock watched him. His voice softened slightly as he finally realized something.

"I've disappointed you." John turned with an angry smile.

"That's a good deduction." He retorted sarcastically.

"Don't make people into heroes, John. Heroes don't exist, and if they did, I wouldn't be one of them." Sherlock coldly declared. John stood, unable to respond. The phone took the opportunity away from him anyway.

"Excellent." Sherlock whispered softly, happily picking up the phone. There were two pips left and this time a picture of the Thames.

"You check the papers; I'll look online-" He started to say but stopped when he looked up and saw John standing with his hands braced on the back of his chair and his head lowered.

"Oh, you're angry with me, so you won't help. Not much cop, this caring lark." John sighed heavily at Sherlock's mocking tone but still moved to help.

Getting in touch with Lestrade revealed that a body had been found at the Thames. L reluctantly followed to the scene. The victim was a security guard for the Hickman Gallery by the name of Alex Woodbridge. Woodbridge was killed by asphyxiation with strange bruising around the nose and mouth. Sherlock deduced that it was a hit done by the killer Golem, who squeezes the life out of his victims with his bare hands. From all that Sherlock deduced that the famous painting about to be unveiled at the gallery was a fake. John, L and Lestrade were all amazed that he was able piece everything together so quickly. Sherlock still had to find Golem and prove that the painting was a fake.

John and L looked into Woodbridge and discovered that he didn't know much about art but loved stargazing. There was also a voice message left for him by a Professor Cairns that seemed pretty important. John received a message of his own and, judging by John's grimace, L decided it was probably from Mycroft. Sherlock still hadn't solved that case for him after all. John figured bringing L along to such an important case would make it hard for Westie's fiancée to take him seriously so he had L wait back at Baker Street. L did so without complaint since John was right. It didn't make waiting around any easier.

John was very late in coming back as he met with Sherlock after meeting with Westie's fiancée to look for Golem. Sherlock got a clue of the man's whereabouts from his homeless network. Golem initially escaped them but they found him again. Unfortunately, they were not in time to save Professor Cairns. The forming bruises on Sherlock's face let L know that it had been a rather close call for them. Golem got away but there was no point dwelling on that then. Sherlock instead focused on proving the painting false.

"It's a fake. It has to be." Sherlock muttered, standing in front of the painting at the gallery. The phone finally rang after remaining silent throughout the whole case.

"The painting is a fake. That's why Woodbridge and Cairns was killed." Sherlock stated a bit tensely into the phone. Only heavy breathing came through the speaker

"Oh, come on. Proving it's just a detail. The painting is a fake. I've solved it. I've figured it out. It's a fake! That's the answer. That's why they were killed." Sherlock insisted, annoyed. The breathing continued. Sherlock took a calming breath.

"Okay, I'll prove it. Give me time. Will you give me time?" A trembling voice finally responded.

"Ten..." Sherlock spun to look closely at the painting.

"Oh, God, it's a kid!" Lestrade covered his face, horrified.

"Nine..."

Sherlock narrowed his eyes as he scanned every inch of the painting.

"Eight..."

"This kid will die. Tell me why the painting is a fake. Tell me!" Sherlock demanded Miss Wenceslas who was running the gallery. He quickly held up a hand though when she went to speak.

"Seven..."

"No, shut up. Don't say anything. It only works if I figure it out." John started pacing as Sherlock turned back to the painting.

"Must be possible. Must be staring me in the face."

"Six..."

"Woodbridge knew, but how?" Thinking of Woodbridge, L figured it out but had to hold it in; Sherlock was right…it had to be him that solved it.

"Five..."

"Oh!" Sherlock gasped, eyes wide.

"Four..."

"Oh, that is brilliant! That is gorgeous!" Sherlock gave John the pink phone and took out his own phone for something.

"Three..."

"This is beautiful. I love this!" Sherlock finished typing into and turned back to them, laughing in delight. L felt his anger stir. Without thinking, he swung his leg out and kicked Sherlock in the shin. The man flinched and looked down at him, meeting his glare head on. It worked to remind the man of the situation. He grabbed the phone from John.

"Two..."

"The Van Buren Supernova!" He said into the phone. There was a pause.

"Please. Is somebody there?" The boy said. They all sighed, relieved. Sherlock gave the phone to Lestrade to get the boy's location. He pointed at the painting.

"The Van Buren Supernova, so-called Exploding star, only appeared in the sky in eighteen fifty-eight." Sherlock explained, holding up his phone so Miss Wenceslas can see the screen. He threw her a triumphant look as John finished for him.

"So how could it have been painted in the sixteen forties?" John stood amazed as usual.

They questioned Miss Wenceslas and managed to confirm that Moriarty was involved in this, which meant he was involved in all the others and was in fact the bomber. It was of no surprise at this point.

John went back to the Westie case, this time looking at the tracks Westie was found on. L was allowed to come this time. There was very little blood on the tracks even though the victim had his head bashed in. He pieced it together a couple minutes before John did but kept quiet. It was really John's case at this point so he felt it was only right to let John have the satisfaction of solving it. Of course Sherlock had them both beat, which he revealed when he showed up on the scene just as John figured it out.

"Knew you'd get there eventually. West wasn't killed here; that's why there was so little blood."

"How long have you been following me?" John asked, a bit annoyed but not much.

"Since the start. You don't think I'd give up on a case like this just to spite my brother, do you?" He walked off.

"Come on. Got a bit of burglary to do." John followed without question.

John and L followed Sherlock to the house where the brother of Westie's fiancée lived. The man showed up while they were snooping and they managed to get a confession from him. He stole the plans from Westie to get out of debt and accidentally killed Westie when he later confronted him over it. He pushed Westie's body on top of a train car, which the street outside his place overlooked. Westie's body fell off the train later at Battersea Station when the switching of tracks jostled him off. The brother gave them the missile plans and they went on their way.

That night they sat around in the sitting room. Sherlock, strangely enough, was watching telly, yelling at it too. The Moriarty case was still hanging over their heads but the tension that had accumulated during the case seemed to have left as John teased Sherlock like normal again. Sherlock even smiled at the teasing. Everything almost seemed right again but L couldn't shake this ominous feeling. John got up and started putting on his coat.

"Where are you going?" Sherlock asked, keeping his eyes on the screen.

"I…uh…accidentally let it slip the other day that I was taking care of L to Sarah and she wants to meet him." John clearly regretted the slip but was also relieved that it didn't turn Sarah off; apparently she liked children.

"There's leftovers in the fridge." John reminded him as he called L over. "Right we need milk." He muttered to himself.

"I'll get some." Sherlock offered.

"Really?!" John asked, disbelieving but still smiling at the idea. Sherlock nodded, eyes still glued to the screen. John took a moment to stare but then nodded. Sherlock could feel L's eyes on him but kept his eyes forward, knowing how sharp the boy is. John left with L in toll.

Sherlock waited a few minutes after they left before grabbing his laptop. He typed a quick message on his website for Moriarty to see then grabbed his coat. He quickly left, eager to reach the finale.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The pool was almost eerily quiet and the lighting added to the ominous feel. Sherlock calmly walked along it though. He looked around, knowing he wasn't alone. He held up the memory stick with the missile plans.

"Brought you a little getting-to-know-you present. Oh, that's what it's all been for, hasn't it? All your little puzzles, making me dance…all to distract me from this." He turned slowly as he spoke. A door opened behind him when his back was to the pool. Sherlock looked over his shoulder and froze.

"Evening." John said. Sherlock slowly lowered his arm, shocked nearly speechless.

"This is a turn-up, isn't it, Sherlock?"

"John? What the hell…?"

"Bet you never saw this coming."

Sherlock couldn't believe it. He was Moriarty? No, it couldn't be. His brother's caution regarding sentiment came back and he regrettably thought once more that maybe he was right. Had sentiment clouded his judgment? Was that why he never saw the truth behind John Watson? Or-

Such thoughts stopped dead as John opened the bulky jacket that made him look all the smaller in stature. The explosives strapped across the man's chest filled Sherlock with cold, heart stopping dread. There was the truth right there.

"Stop it." He barked out, interrupting John's forced ramblings, which he hadn't really been listening to.

"Nice touch, this: the pool where little Carl died. I stopped him." John continued to say. He nearly cringed at the next words. "I can stop John Watson too. Stop his heart."

"Who are you?" Sherlock asked, looking around. A door opening on the other side of the pool drew his attention. He couldn't see who opened it though as they lingered in the shadow of the doorway.

"I gave you my number." A man with an Irish accent spoke in a tone that was a bit hard to take seriously. "Thought you might call."

The speaker stepped from the doorway and into the light of the pool. Sherlock hated to admit it but it took him a second longer than it should have for him to recognize the now sharply dressed man. Jim casually walked along the pool towards them with his hands in his pockets.

"Is that a British Army Browning L9A1 in your pocket or are you just pleased to see me?"

"Both." Sherlock replied tensely, pulling the gun out. He aimed it right at Jim but the man was unfazed.

"Jim Moriarty. Hi!" He introduced himself as he stood across from Sherlock. Sherlock said nothing.

"Jim? Jim from the hospital?" Moriarty continued. Sherlock brought up his other hand to better support the gun. Moriarty bit his lip as if disappointed.

"Oh. Did I really make such a fleeting impression? But then, I suppose, that was rather the point."

"I've given you a glimpse, Sherlock, just a teensy glimpse of what I've got going on out there in the big bad world. I'm a specialist, you see...like you!" He looked surprised at the end, as if he just realized it. Sherlock finally spoke.

"Dear Jim. Please will you fix it for me to get rid of my lover's nasty sister?" Moriarty grinned, walking forward. "Dear Jim. Please will you fix it for me to disappear to South America?"

"Just so." Moriarty stated as he stopped.

"Consulting criminal. Brilliant." Sherlock complimented softly. Moriarty smiled, proud.

"Isn't it? No-one ever gets to me." His tone turned serious. "And no-one ever will."

"I did." Sherlock protested, cocking the gun.

"You've come the closest." Moriarty agreed, shrugging. "Now you're in my way."

"Thank you."

"Didn't mean it as a compliment."

"Yes you did." Sherlock grinned slightly but his aim never wavered.

"Yeah, okay, I did." Moriarty shrugged exaggeratedly. "But the flirting's over, Sherlock." His voice became high-pitched and sing-song like. "Daddy's had enough now!" He strolled closer as his voice went back to normal.

"I've shown you what I can do. I cut loose all those people, all those little problems, even thirty million quid just to get you to come out and play. So take this as a friendly warning, my dear…Back off." He stressed the last two words.

"Although I have loved this, this little game of ours." Moriarty smiled.

"People have died." Sherlock said, disapproving.

"That's what people DO!" Moriarty screamed the last word furiously. Neither said anything for a few seconds as it echoed.

"I will stop you." Sherlock swore, voice soft but serious.

"No you won't." Moriarty had flip flopped back to calm. Sherlock glanced over at John then held out the memory stick.

"Take it."

"Huh? Oh! That!" Moriarty strolled past John as he went to take the stick from Sherlock. He grinned at it then suddenly tossed the stick into the pool.

"Boring! I could have got them anywhere."

John suddenly lunged forward and grabbed hold of Moriarty, using him as a shield against the sniper.

"Sherlock, run!" He yelled but Sherlock could only stand there dumbstruck. Moriarty laughed.

"Good! Very good."

"If your sniper pulls that trigger, Mr. Moriarty, then we both go up." John said calmly but savagely.

"Isn't he sweet? I can see why you like having him around. But then people do get so sentimental about their pets. They're so touchingly loyal." Moriarty said calmly to Sherlock. He grinned back at John then looked to Sherlock.

"You've rather shown your hand there, Doctor Watson." John froze as a laser point appeared in the middle of Sherlock's forehead. John stared in horror for a moment.

"Gotcha!" Moriarty cheered with that sing-song tone again. He chuckled as John reluctantly released him. He turned to Sherlock while brushing down his suit. He calmly stood there even though Sherlock still had the gun aimed at his head.

"D'you know what happens to you, if you don't leave me alone, Sherlock?"

"Oh, let me guess. I get killed." Sherlock answered with a bored tone.

"Kill you?" Moriarty grimaced "N-no, don't be obvious. I mean, I'm gonna kill you anyway some day. I don't wanna rush it, though. I'm saving it up for something special. No-no-no-no-no. If you don't stop prying, I'll burn you." He ran his eyes briefly down Sherlock's body then met his eyes again. His voice was now vicious.

"I'll burn the heart out of you." He snarled as he said heart but ended the sentence with an almost regretful tone.

"I have been reliably informed that I don't have one." Sherlock softly replied.

"But we both know that's not quite true." Sherlock raised the pistol higher and extended it closer to Moriarty's head.

"What if I was to shoot you now, right now?"

"Then you could cherish the look of surprise on my face." He opened his eyes and mouth wide, mimicking surprise, then grinned at Sherlock. "'Cause I'd be surprised, Sherlock; really I would." He screwed up his nose.

"And just a teensy bit disappointed. And of course you wouldn't be able to cherish it for very long."

"Ciao, Sherlock Holmes." He slowly turned and walked to the door John entered through. Sherlock slowly stepped forward to keep him in his sights.

"Catch...you...later."

"No, you won't!" Moriarty replied, high pitched and sing-song again. The door closed behind him.

Sherlock waited a few seconds before putting the gun down and dropping to his knees in front of John. He quickly started unfastening the vest to which the bomb was attached.

"Are you all right?" He asked urgently.

"Yeah-yeah, I'm fine." John reassured him but his voice was still a bit unsteady.

Sherlock ripped the bomb, vest and jacket from John and hurled them as far as he could. They landed and skid across the floor to rest near the end of the pool that Moriarty had entered on. John's knees could no longer hold him so he sat back against the wall nearest him. Sherlock started pacing with the gun back in hand. John worriedly watched the man scratch his head with it, clearly too distracted to realize how dangerous that was.

"Are you okay?" He asked, voice still breathless.

"Me? Yeah, I'm fine, I'm fine. Fine." Sherlock quickly responded but he clearly wasn't. He gave John a wide-eyed look and spoke, just as breathless.

"That, er...thing that you, er, that you did that, um...you offered to do. That was, um...good." It was a far cry from the man's usual eloquence, which showed just how shaken he was. Whatever shred of calm they managed to gain was shattered as two sniper lasers returned to John's chest. Moriarty came back through another door at the other end of the pool. He clapped his hands.

"Sorry, boys! I'm soooooo changeable!" He said, cheerfully. John grimaced in disbelief. Sherlock kept his back to Moriarty for a moment, looking to see if he can get a glimpse of the snipers.

"It is a weakness with me but, to be fair to myself, it is my only weakness."

Sherlock turned his head and looked down at John, who lifted his own head to meet his gaze.

"You can't be allowed to continue. You just can't. I would try to convince you but ..." Moriarty laughed and used his sing-song tone again. "...everything I have to say has already crossed your mind!" John nodded in respond to the silent request in Sherlock's eyes, giving him full permission to do whatever he deemed necessary.

"Probably my answer has crossed yours." Sherlock turned, aiming the gun once more. Sherlock slowly lowered the gun so that it was aiming at the jacket. Moriarty watched with dark eyes glinting with amusement.

"You sure you want to do that?" He asked. Sherlock's eyes jumped to his but he said nothing.

"Very noble I admit…sacrificing yourself to take me down. Of all the clichés really." He sighed then shrugged.

"I'm sure Johnny Boy wouldn't mind you taking him with us but…" The malicious spark in those eyes unnerved Sherlock. He tightened his grip on the gun. Moriarty looked to one of the curtained cubicles next to him and cheerfully called out.

"You can come out now."

Sherlock didn't need to see to know who would be joining them but he hoped to be wrong this time. L's unruly hair was the first thing he saw as the boy stepped out from behind the curtain.

"My god." John cursed softly, horrified by the many explosions strapped all over L's small body. When he didn't see the boy when he woke up in Moriarty's grasp, he had desperately hoped that meant L had somehow managed to escape. He knew it was a false hope though.

Moriarty reached over and snagged L by the collar, drawing him close. L didn't resist and easily stepped to the man's side.

"Would you really kill him too?" Moriarty asked, grinning. L remained calm as the man cupped his chin and roughly dug fingers into his cheeks. The dark, ugly bruise on the right side of his face showed that he hadn't been handled with much care while in Moriarty's custody.

"He's pretty cute and sooooo smart." Moriarty increased the pitch of his voice, sounding like a young girl fawning over a small animal. "He knew from the start not to trust me. Not even you deduced that, Sherlock."

"It'd be a real shame for him to die here…don't you think, Sherlock?" He asked, forcing L's face in Sherlock's direction. Sherlock and John both glared at him but he remained unfazed if not more amused. He released his grip on L's face and instead slipped his hand into the boy's hair, combing through the strands in an almost tender motion.

"I'd love to keep him really. Just imagine what I could do with that brain of his. He'd make a great protégé."

He sighed, yanking suddenly on the strands. L winced but remained quiet.

"Sadly I know his type. Stubborn, set in his ways…much like Johnny Boy here." He spared John a scathing look that lasted only a second.

"If only I had gotten to him first…but no…you did Sherlock. And you're letting him go to waste. Teaching him to do good." He grimaced as if the very word left a bad taste in his mouth. "How boring."

"You're welcome to join me anytime. I assure you, we'd have such fun." Moriarty was grinning expectantly at Sherlock.

"I believe I already gave you my answer." Sherlock responded, shifting the gun slightly. Moriarty shrugged, unconcerned.

"Couldn't hurt to ask again." There was a long pause as the devilish grin returned.

"Well Sherlock…what are you going to do now?"

No one moved as the tension turned stifling. The gentle lapping of the pool filled the silence but was barely heard by Sherlock over the thumping in his ears.

What could he do?

His mind raced but couldn't find a way out of this. The only option was to go through with his plan to kill Moriarty but that would kill them all. Though he regretted it, with just John it wasn't so hard of a decision but now…

L stared unwaveringly at him, silently urging him with his eyes. Sherlock almost smiled. He could really see John in him. He knew then that he couldn't do it.

 _Sentiment._ He heard his brother chide in his mind but ignored it. He started moving his finger off the trigger when suddenly music started to play. Sherlock glanced around confused. Moriarty closed his eyes and sighed.

"D'you mind if I get that?"

"No, no, please. You've got the rest of your life." Sherlock assured him nonchalantly. Moriarty moved his hand from L's head back to his collar and pulled out his phone with his free hand.

"Hello? Yes, of course it is. What do you want?" He mouthed 'sorry' to Sherlock, who sarcastically mouth 'it's fine' back at him. Moriarty rolled his eyes and turned away while keeping his hold on L as he continued to listen to whoever was on the line. He suddenly spun back around, his face full of fury.

"SAY THAT AGAIN!" He yelled into the phone before speaking lowly, almost venomously into the phone. "Say that again, and know that if you're lying to me, I will find you and I will ssssskin you." He lowered the phone and looked at Sherlock.

"Sorry. Wrong day to die. You'll be hearing from me, Sherlock" Moriarty patted L on the head as he left and strolled back to his initial entrance. He lifted the phone back to his ear.

"So if you have what you say you have, I will make you rich. If you don't, I'll make you into shoes." He snapped his fingers right as he went through the door, making all the lasers disappear.

Both John and Sherlock raced forward to free L from the explosives. Their movements were frantic but effective. The explosives were flung as far away as possible. John looked L over for injuries. He crumbled forward onto his knees, limp with relief, when he found none and placed his hands on L's shoulders. He said nothing, he simply held on tightly. L had tensed at the initial contact but slowly relaxed under the doctor's firm grip. John breathing was still slightly panicked and L could feel his rapid pulse through the palms on his shoulders. The immense relief on his face showed just how scared he had been for L…how much he cared.

L finally allowed himself to succumb to his own fear. He stepped forward and buried his face into John's shoulder and gripped John's shirt as hard as he could as his body was wracked by shudders and tremors. He didn't cry but he breathed unsteadily as if he were. John's hands slowly slipped from his shoulders and rested softly on his back, not pulling him closer but still providing comfort.

The fear didn't last long though as he was overcome with a warm feeling that he didn't recognize at first as he had never felt it before. It was a feeling of belonging. That's what he felt as he was held and he felt it even more as a warm, large hand gently rested atop his head. The spidery fingers awkwardly but gently smoothing down the strands there told him who it belonged to. It was a bit surreal but he gladly accepted the uncharacteristically caring movement from the self-proclaimed sociopath.

It was in that moment that he knew for sure that there's nowhere else he'd rather be. It wouldn't always be easy, especially with Sherlock's moods but he wouldn't give this up for anything.

Sherlock and John explained what happened to Lestrade but didn't linger long as they really just wanted to get back to the flat and call it a day. It was a huge relief that the whole thing was over for the time being. L immediately went to bed but John found himself unable to sleep quite yet so he sat in the sitting room. He was unaware of Sherlock watching him from the doorway.

Sherlock still hadn't managed to shake off the dread he felt when he saw John and then L strapped with explosives. He almost lost them both today. They could have died without knowing how much he…how much they…

 _Caring is not an advantage,_ his brother had always said but clearly not caring wasn't working.

 _"I want to keep my heart alive for his sake…not my own. So he won't be hurt caring for someone who can't do the same. He doesn't deserve that. And I don't think L and John do either."_

Remembering Akishi's words and what had happened only a couple hours ago, Sherlock suddenly couldn't stand keeping up the façade anymore.

Sherlock stepped into the room, drawing John's attention.

"Hey." John greeted, smiling. He frowned at Sherlock's hesitant expression. "What's wrong?"

"I heard you talking with L that one night he had a nightmare." Sherlock forced himself to start.

"Bloody hell." John groaned, burying his face in his hands. He was clearly embarrassed that Sherlock had heard all that.

"Listen to me before you try to suffocate yourself with a pillow or something."

John sighed but did sit back to listen. Sherlock took a deep breath to calm his nerves before speaking.

"You know me John. You know how I am with people so you know I don't make friends…I can't make friends. I was fine with that for a long time but then…" Sherlock hesitated, not wanting to finish that particular sentence.

"Anyway, the point is I was alone…until I met you, John Watson." Sherlock smiled at the man, who was looking rather baffled and embarrassed by the conversation.

"You tolerated me. You worked with me. You tried to make me a better person instead of just deciding that such a thing was hopeless. You…stayed." Sherlock trailed off as he found himself overwhelmed again by emotion. He pushed on though.

"You stayed even though I gave you numerous reasons to leave. That means a lot to me, John." Sherlock found he couldn't look John in the eye anymore; he was just as mortified by this as the doctor. He turned away as he finally finished.

"What I'm trying to say is...I'm grateful that I met you, John." He paused a minute.

"You can go suffocate yourself now." He said, trying to end the awkwardness with humor. John chuckled, appreciating the effort. He couldn't think of anything meaningful to say in response but got the feeling that Sherlock didn't want him to.

"Sure you don't want to join me? I could lend you a pillow." He asked instead, grinning. Sherlock chuckled.

"I hope you're not planning on making this a habit…I don't think I can handle you talking like that on a daily basis. It's too surreal." John said with a teasing grin.

"Oh don't worry. I promise it was a one time thing."

"Good."

 **Author Note: I glossed over a lot of the cases. Hope that's okay.**

 **Hope all the dialogue from the actual series wasn't annoying to read.**

 **Also hope you all enjoyed my own personal moments, including the last one. Now we see what impact Akishi had. Sherlock won't be openly affectionate from now on or anything but he will try not to pretend that he doesn't care. I'll try to make it a gradual change to how he is later in the series.**

 **Please Review.**


	8. The Unusual Woman

**Author Note: Yay! I'm back. Sorry again for the long wait. I'm just glad I finished this chapter before September.**

 **I'd like to send my thanks to Ariane DeVere for her written transcripts of the episodes.**

 **Warning: Spoilers for Series 2 and possible 3**

 **Disclaimer:** **Death Note and its characters belong to Tsugumi Ohba while Sherlock and its characters belong to Arthur Conan Doyle, Mark Gatiss and Steven Mofatt**

Chapter 8: The Unusual Woman

The next few cases since the craziness with Moriarty and the pool were simple and uneventful, which was a bit of a relief for John and L. Sherlock, of course, didn't feel the same. He didn't want to deal with a man looking for his fiancée who disappeared the day before the wedding when she clearly just ran off with someone else or a simple robbery of a family heirloom. There was a rather interesting client who claimed that the ashes of his aunt weren't actually her ashes but Sherlock turned him away before he even finished his sentence.

They did take on the robbery case though Sherlock really just dumped it on L. L didn't mind, he decided to use this case as a means to test himself; he wanted to see how well he could do on his own, not that he was literally by himself as John was with him. The client understandably didn't know how to react to a child taking on his case but thankfully didn't give them much trouble. It didn't take long to figure out that the stepdaughter was the culprit. She was planning to sell the family heirloom and use the money to run off with her boyfriend. L smiled to himself when John praised him on his good job; the doctor had followed his lead without question…it was nice to be trusted and taken seriously.

Sherlock was still without something to really focus on. L took advantage of that, taking on some of the other cases brought to him. However, he was still hoping something would catch Sherlock's interest so there wouldn't be so many body parts lying around the kitchen or at least not more than usual. Sherlock and John were starting to get on each others nerves again with Sherlock criticizing John's blog and John returning the favor to Sherlock's own website.

Lestrade had brought them a case about a dead man found in a trunk of a car that should have died in a plane crash. In the end, Sherlock couldn't solve it and insisted that John not write about it on his blog. John was rather amused by the whole thing but Sherlock got offended as John brought up once more how more people looked at his blog than Sherlock's website. Sherlock walked off with a quiet huff.

It was bizarre to say it but it was a relief when Mycroft showed up one day at the flat, though of course Sherlock wouldn't say as much. It was a shame that John was at work instead of there to help ease the usual tension.

"What do you want, Mycroft?" Sherlock gave his usual greeting as Mycroft took John's chair.

"For once, I'm not here to speak with you. I'm here to see the boy." Mycroft said, turning his head to look at said boy on the couch. L looked up from his book, surprised.

"There's someone who wishes to meet you." Mycroft continued now that he had the boy's attention.

"Who?" L asked, carefully bookmarking his page before putting his book down on the cushion beside him.

"He's a very successful inventor that has connections with some very important people."

"What would an inventor want with me?" L asked, curious but wary.

"Lately he's shown an interest in children of high intelligence such as yourself."

"Mycroft." Sherlock nearly growled, leaning forward in his chair.

"Peace little brother. I don't intend to take the boy from you…as of this point." Mycroft said, glancing over at the irate man but keeping his head turned L's way.

"He just wishes to speak with me?" L spoke up before Sherlock could start up an argument over how L belonged to him. Honestly, they fought over the simplest of things at times, much like kids fighting over a toy though L rather not think of himself as such no matter how much truth there might be in that comparison.

"He assured me of such."

L took a moment to think it over. L was curious but still wary. He decided that Mycroft most likely wouldn't allow the meeting if the man meant them any harm.

"Alright."

The person Mycroft spoke of was an elderly man with a kind face and warm eyes. His very presence was almost enough to convince L to let down his guard.

"Hello. My name is Quillish Wammy. It's nice to meet you." He offered his hand with an easy smile. The man spoke as if he was speaking to another adult instead of a child. L appreciated that. L took the man's hand.

"L."

Wammy sat down in John's chair since Mycroft had taken Sherlock's and Sherlock himself had moved to the couch. L joined the detective there.

"Mr. Holmes told me that you had been living on the streets before his brother took you in. Why not bring yourself to an orphanage?"

L tensed at that. He hadn't told Sherlock or John but he had actually lived at an orphanage for some time before the streets. He swore he would never step foot in such a place again. He wasn't going to answer at first but the closeness of the detective beside him encouraged him.

"I wouldn't be treated right in such a place."

"How would you know?"

L said nothing but the man seemed to understand.

"I see." He sighed. "I've always regretted the state of some of the orphanages. I myself grew up in one for some time. I've seen how ostracized some children are. Especially, the gifted ones like yourself. I actually recently finished building an orphanage purely for such children." An arm roughly pulled L into Sherlock's side.

"You said you weren't taking him." Sherlock glared at Mycroft.

"I assure you that is not my intention, Mr. Holmes." Wammy cut in gently.

"What is your intention then?" Sherlock asked.

"My orphanage provides the children with a place to belong but I'm afraid that is all. I have teachers to help hone their skills if they wish it but many of the children seem to feel…purposeless. They don't know what to aim for. A lot of them don't have kind views of the world because of what they have lived through and don't wish to contribute to it. I was hoping you could help me, L."

"Help you?" L asked.

"Mr. Holmes told me that you plan to become a detective like Mr. Holmes here. I was wondering what made you decide such a thing."

"It was because of him." L said after a moment, looking up at the man still holding him close in a more possessive than protective manner. "He might have his flaws but I still respect what he does. He inspired me to use my intellect for the good of others, though he might claim he uses it for other reasons." Sherlock rolled his eyes at that. "I want to be like him…to a degree." L smiled as Sherlock frowned, looking a bit offended. "It's that simple."

Wammy smiled softly.

"I see…a role model. The children don't have anyone like Mr. Holmes. I'll need to find someone they can relate to, someone who can be a good role model." He said, looking both encouraged and disheartened. A sudden crazy idea came to L and he blurted it out without thinking.

"I'll do it." They all turned incredulous eyes on him. L didn't let that deter him.

"I know for sure that I'll be a detective someday. If you're willing to wait, I'll come and be their Sherlock Holmes." He grinned at the thought. Wammy looked to Sherlock for his opinion. L also looked his way. The man looked unsure at first then smirked.

"It's his choice. You'll find no one better besides myself." L practically beamed. Wammy smiled as he stood.

"I'll look forward to it. I'm afraid I have another engagement to attend. If you ever need my help, please don't hesitate to ask." L shook the man's hand with confidence, positive that he would see him again one day.

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It actually wasn't that long after meeting Mr. Wammy that they saw Mycroft again but for a different reason. It was surreal…but not entirely out of the norm for L, which in itself says a lot about what his life had become, to find himself sitting in Buckingham Palace next to a naked Sherlock. The man sat calmly even though only a thin sheet covered his bareness. The man's lack of attire was more by choice than anything as he was refusing to put on his clothes even though they were neatly folded on the table in front of him.

L sighed. He really shouldn't be amazed anymore by how far Sherlock would go in his childish attempts to make things as far from easy as possible for Mycroft. L was relieved when John showed up.

The doctor paused in the grand doorway, giving Sherlock a questioning look most likely in regards to why they were there. Sherlock just shrugged disinterestedly and looked forward once more. John sighed and walked over. He took a seat beside L, putting the boy in the middle of the two. John leaned back to peek over L at Sherlock, no doubt questioning why the man was wearing only a sheet. John sat back, looking forward.

"Are you wearing any pants?" He asked a bit awkwardly, keeping his eyes off Sherlock like the man didn't have the sheet to cover himself.

"No."

"Okay."

John looked the other way but then turned back just as Sherlock looked his way. The two burst out laughing the moment their eyes met. L smiled to himself at the sounds of Sherlock's deep chuckles and John's high-pitched laughter.

"What are we doing here, Sherlock?" John asked after a moment, still smiling.

"I don't know." Even Sherlock still had a grin on his face.

"Here to see the Queen?"

Mycroft had the misfortune of walking into the room at that precise moment and Sherlock of course didn't let such an opportunity go to waste.

"Oh, apparently, yes." Sherlock said. The two lost it once more. Mycroft looked at them, exasperated.

"Just once, can you two behave like grown ups? Honestly, even the boy is behaving better." That wasn't entirely true; L was just barely holding himself together. John made it all the harder with his response.

"We solve crimes, I blog about it and he forgets his pants, so I wouldn't hold out too much hope."

Mycroft let out a deep breath through his nose but didn't respond beyond that. He moved forward and picked up Sherlock's clothes. He held them out expectantly but Sherlock just stared at them uninterested. Mycroft let out a real sigh this time.

"We are in Buckingham Palace, the very heart of the British nation." His tone turned stern. "Sherlock Holmes, put your trousers on." L doubted the man believed it would be that easy as things never were with Sherlock.

"What for?" Sherlock shrugged.

"Your client." Sherlock stood up.

"And my client is?" He asked, tensely.

Another man suddenly walked into the room, speaking up.

"Illustrious in the extreme and remaining entirely anonymous."

Mycroft greeted the man with a smile, shaking his hand.

"May I apologize for the state of my little brother?"

"Full-time occupation, I imagine." Sherlock scowled but both men ignored that. The man named Harry, clearly an equerry, turned to John.

"This must be Doctor John Watson, formerly of the Fifth Northumberland Fusiliners."

John was surprised but pleased that he was recognized and acknowledged before Sherlock for once. He shook the man's hand. L wasn't sure if the man did it intentionally just to rile Sherlock up or not but he turned to L to give a vaguely interested introduction before truly acknowledging the man dressed only in a sheet.

"And Mr. Holmes the younger. You look taller in your photographs."

"I take the precaution of a good coat and a short friend." Sherlock replied with a clipped tone. John shot him a look at that last comment but anything he might have said was pushed to the side just as he was as Sherlock approached Mycroft.

"I don't do anonymous clients. I'm used to mystery at one end of my cases. Both ends is too much work." He stiffly turned to walk out of the room. Mycroft wasn't about to simply let him go. L sat taken aback as Mycroft deliberately stepped onto the trailing edge of the sheet. Sherlock continued forward unaware. John stepped forward slightly as the sheet slipped off though it was clear he was too far away to save Sherlock's remaining dignity. Sherlock thankfully stopped and tugged what he could back around himself before it was too late.

"This is a matter of national importance. Grow up." Mycroft scolded.

"Get off my sheet!" Sherlock spat back through gritted teeth.

"Or what?"

"Or I'll just walk away." Sherlock feigned nonchalance.

"I'd let you."

"Boys, please. Not here." John gently intervened before the two could get any more childish.

"Who. Is. My. Client?" Sherlock emphasized each word, voice tense with rage. Mycroft, as always, was unfazed by his brother's upset.

"Take a look at where you're standing and make a deduction. You are to be engaged by the highest in the land. Now for God's sake..." Mycroft broke off, trying to get his anger under control. He finished with an exasperated tone. "…put your clothes on!"

They all sat down now that Sherlock had finally relented. Mycroft pulled out a photograph from his suitcase, handing it to Sherlock. L leaned closer to the man to peer at it.

"What do you know of this woman?"

Sherlock paused for a second to look at the pale, beautiful woman in the photograph.

"Nothing whatsoever." He replied disinterested.

Mycroft explained that the woman, Irene Adler, was involved in two political scandals recently, not that Sherlock had any interest in that.

"You know I don't concern myself with trivia. Who is she?"

"She's professionally known as The Woman. There are many names for what she does. She prefers 'dominatrix.' She provides…recreational scolding for those who enjoy that sort of thing and are prepared to pay for it." Mycroft explained, pausing momentarily while giving L an almost hesitant look. That was enough to really explain what Adler did for a living. L might not know much regarding the subject because of his age but he was aware at least that it existed.

"And I assume this Adler woman has some compromising photographs." Sherlock continued, unfazed by the topic. "Photographs of whom?"

"A person of significance to my employer. We'd prefer not to say any more at this time." Harry replied. Sherlock glared at him.

"Will you take the case?" Harry asked.

"What case? Pay her, now and in full. As Miss Adler remarks in her masthead, "Know when you are beaten." Sherlock replied tensely, reaching for his coat.

"She doesn't want anything." Sherlock stopped at Mycroft's words. He faced him, showing some interest.

"She got in touch, she informed us that the photographs existed, she indicated that she had no intention to use them to extort either money or favor." Sherlock's eyes shined.

"Oh, a power play. A power play with the most powerful family in Britain. Now that is a dominatrix. Ooh, this is getting rather fun, isn't it?"

"Sherlock." John chided softly but Sherlock either didn't hear him or simply ignored him. Sherlock grabbed his coat and stood up.

"Where is she? Never mind just text me the details. I'll be in touch by the end of the day."

"You really think you'll have news by then?" Harry asked, clearly not expecting much. Sherlock turned to him with a smirk.

"No, I think I'll have the photographs." The man gave him a doubtful look. Sherlock quickly looked him over, clearly doing one of his famous scans. L was looking forward to Sherlock showing off.

"Can I have a box of matches?" He asked the equerry suddenly. "Or your lighter?"

"I don't smoke." The man replied.

"No, I know you don't but your employer does."

There was a moment of silence as the man just stared at Sherlock in reluctant awe. He slowly took out a lighter and handed it to Sherlock who said nothing but everyone could see the smugness radiating off him. Mycroft softly sighed but didn't reproach his brother. L jumped off the couch to follow after Sherlock as he left the room with his usual dramatic flair. They stopped momentarily when Mycroft spoke up.

"Sherlock…I recommend you don't bring the boy with you."

"Something you're not telling us?" Sherlock asked, sending his brother a critical look.

"It's more of a precaution, considering the nature of Irene Adler's work. Best not to expose him to too much so early." Sherlock rolled his eyes and continued on without responding.

Despite Sherlock's disregard of Mycroft's warning, John still had them drop L off back at Baker Street. L and Sherlock both scowled the whole ride. L didn't complain though. Mrs. Hudson was more than happy to have L around and L was more than happy to partake in her candies and pastries. L wished John good luck as an impatient Sherlock yanked the man out of Mrs. Hudson's kitchen without sparing L a glance. L sat down at the table and bit into a strawberry tart, hoping the case would go as smooth as Sherlock believed it would.

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Though John was sure he wouldn't admit it, Sherlock had clearly underestimated Irene Adler. Not only was she expecting them to drop by but she also seemed to easily throw Sherlock off his game. Sherlock couldn't really be blamed though; John was sure there weren't many woman, if any, that would greet strangers stark naked as if she did it on a daily basis, which given her line of work was very plausible.

The whole situation was very uncomfortable for John at least. Having to keep his eyes from wandering was hard enough but the long intense stares Irene and Sherlock were giving each other really irked him. John was used to feeling like he didn't exist because of Sherlock's tendency to focus solely on whatever he was working on but it had never been because he was focusing on another person before. There was the Moriarty case but John rather forget the whole thing if you don't mind. Overall it was a new experience that he didn't particularly care much for.

Irene Alder's roaming gaze paused where John had punched Sherlock earlier at the man's insistent demands in order to create a believable story to get them inside. Not that it mattered much since Irene didn't buy it. She smirked coolly, sending John a quick knowing look.

"Somebody loves you. If I had to punch that face, I'd avoid your nose and teeth too."

John forced a laugh. He had held back from punching Sherlock anywhere seriously damaging and it hadn't even been a conscious decision at the time. It seemed that he couldn't bring himself to really hurt the man, no matter how irritating he could be. He rather not ponder on it right then but he was sure it wasn't for the reason Irene was implying. He pushed the whole matter aside and asked Irene to put something on, even offering her a napkin.

"Why? Are you feeling exposed?" She asked as she stood, looking amused.

"I don't think John knows where to look." Sherlock said as he offered his coat to the woman. John would have glared his way if he wasn't so preoccupied in making sure his gaze didn't fall below Irene's face.

"No, I think he knows exactly where." Irene replied with a grin. She turned a curious look Sherlock's way as she took the offered coat. "I'm not sure about you." She said, noticing his easily averted gaze.

It seemed the woman was full of similar implications regarding the two of them but Sherlock was unfazed by it. John let out a quiet sigh of relief as Irene tightly wrapped the coat around herself.

The two got to talking and Sherlock, amazing as he was, managed to get Irene to unintentionally confirm that the photographs were in that very room. Sherlock then instructed John to watch the door and let no one in. The look he sent the doctor told him more than he was saying however. John left the room and quickly got to work.

Back inside the room, Sherlock made conversation while buying time. He didn't have to wait long before the sound of a fire alarm started. Irene's gaze immediately fell on the large mirror over the fireplace. Sherlock followed her gaze with a glint in his eyes.

"Thank you. On hearing a smoke alarm, a mother would look towards her child. Amazing how fire exposes our priorities." _Or explosives,_ he mentally added as he had a momentary flashback to the pool encounter with Moriarty.

He shook off the memory and continued on without pause. He walked over to the fireplace and ran his fingers along the mantelpiece. He quickly found a switch underneath and pressed it. The mirror slid upwards, revealing a small wall safe.

"All right, John, you can turn it off now." Sherlock called out loud enough to be heard over the alarm. There was a moment or two more of beeping before it abruptly cut off. Sherlock turned his attention onto the number pad of the safe. He started trying to deduce what the code was, spouting off information as he went.

"I'd tell you the code right now but you know what? I already have." Irene interrupted. Sherlock turned to her with a frown.

The door suddenly burst open as a group of men with guns barged in with John forced in at gunpoint. The leader, later known as Neilson, ordered Irene to the floor. She was pushed down next to John when she remained in place. Sherlock raised his hands above his head as the man turned a gun on him.

"Open the safe." Neilson ordered.

"American." Sherlock pointed out calmly, noting the man's accent. "Interesting. Why would you care?" He asked, glancing at Irene.

"The safe." The man urged.

"I don't know the code."

"We've been listening. She said she told you."

"Well, if you'd been listening, you'd know she didn't." It seemed Sherlock couldn't stop himself from being his snarky self even in such a situation.

"For God's sake. She's the one who knows the code. Ask her." John blurted out tensely. The gun at the back of his neck was putting him on edge. He could feel adrenaline flooding his veins but didn't dare make a move.

"She also knows the code that will automatically call the police and set off the burglar alarm." Neilson pointed out. He kept his eyes on Sherlock and then spoke again after a few seconds.

"Mr. Archer. At the count of three, shoot Dr. Watson." He said decisively. John's heart leapt into his throat as the gun was pressed further into his neck and cocked.

"I don't have the code." Sherlock insisted but the man was unmoved. He started counting down.

"She didn't tell me! I don't know it!" Sherlock was raising his voice now as the smell of chlorine filled his nose. The impossibility of it didn't cross his mind as his thoughts were all in a panic.

 _John. They're going to kill John. No. Got to stop them. John. Have to do something. Something. ANYTHING._

Heart pounding, Sherlock looked to Irene. She pointedly lowered her gaze.

"Stop!" Sherlock cried out as logic pushed through the panic, bringing an epiphany with it.

Neilson held up his hand, stopping his countdown. Sherlock slowly turned to the safe. He paused before slowly inputting what he believed was the code. His heart pounded as he pressed the last number. He sighed as the safe beeped then unlocked.

"Open it please."

Sherlock glanced again at Irene. She lowered her gaze again and made a tiny jerk with her head.

"Vatican cameos." He said urgently before opening the safe, hoping John reacted to their code in time. He ducked down as John threw himself onto the floor. A gun hidden in the safe went off with the use of a tripwire. The man behind John was shot straight in the chest. The room erupted into action. Irene savagely elbowed the man above her in the groin. She grappled for his gun as he crumbled then used it to knock the man out while Sherlock did the same with the leader and his gun. He then turned and grabbed the contents of the safe, which turned out to be a locked camera phone. Irene demanded he return it to her but Sherlock of course refused.

"Sherlock!" John called from another room. He had found where the men had gotten in. Sherlock clutched the phone tightly and went to meet him.

He found the doctor looking over Irene's unconscious assistant in an upstairs bedroom. John then made the mistake of leaving Sherlock alone with Irene as he went to check the back door at her suggestion. Irene wasted no time. She injected Sherlock with a syringe while he was distracted trying to unlock the phone. She then slapped him hard, making him fall to the floor as he lost control of his legs.

"Give it to me." She demanded but he still refused even as his vision went blurry. She proceeded to beat him with a riding crop till he dropped it. She fondly but smugly bid him farewell as she pocketed the phone in the coat she was still wearing. She climbed onto the windowsill as John reentered the room. He rushed to Sherlock's side once he saw him.

"Sherlock!" He turned to Irene once he saw the syringe. "What did you give him?" He demanded, glaring fiercely. Irene assured him that the man would be fine before toppling backwards out the window, using the rope along the side of it to land safely. John didn't think about pursuing. He checked Sherlock over and decided that he wasn't in any immediate danger. He called Lestrade for there was no way John was going to be able to get Sherlock home by himself. He sat there with Sherlock until he got there, keeping a close eye on him all the while.

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L got more and more uneasy the longer it took for John and Sherlock to get home from meeting Irene Adler. However, he never expected for John to return while half supporting, half carrying a stumbling, rambling Sherlock. Lestrade was also there but he seemed more amused than concerned as he held his phone out, clearly filming the whole thing. John noticed him and gave him a tired smile but didn't stop to talk as he continued his struggle. Saving his questions, L went ahead and opened Sherlock's door for them.

John set Sherlock down on his bed as gently as he could. He then fumbled about as he worked to get the man under the top sheet. Thankfully, Sherlock passed out the moment his head hit the pillow so they didn't have to worry about him stumbling from bed at that point in time.

Clearly happy to be relieved of his burden, John sunk into his chair in the sitting room. He thanked Lestrade for his help as the inspector left. John gave a brief explanation of what happened to L. John clearly didn't like Irene much but that was understandable given what she did to Sherlock. L decided not to be so quick to judge; Irene was clearly desperate to get the phone back and he doubted it was just because of the pictures. He still didn't appreciate what she did though. Whatever else was on the phone, L was sure they would see Irene again; she showed too much interest in Sherlock for them not to.

A couple hours passed and the doctor made no move beyond checking in on Sherlock. The man clearly intended to stay up all night on watch like the good friend and doctor that he was. L wanted to stay up with him and keep him company but John just shook his head and shooed him off to bed with a smile.

"And make sure you actually try to get some sleep." John said, not quite ordering but close enough. "I'll know if you didn't." L rolled his eyes slightly but did as he was told. There may be many benefits but it wasn't always easy living with a doctor, especially one as responsible and passionate as John.

Sherlock was back to his usual self the next morning. Apparently there had been an incident last night when he woke up, still out of sorts, claiming Irene had been in his room. John had dismissed him at the time but there was no dismissing the return of Sherlock's coat and phone, which had been in the pocket. Irene had taken the liberty of altering it to her tastes so that whenever Sherlock got a message from her, it would let out an obscene moan, no doubt made by the woman herself. Well you certainly can't say that L was wrong about her being…interested.

The first time L heard the phone's new message alert was when Mycroft had dropped by that morning to ask about the pictures. It was an understandably awkward and bizarre moment.

"What was that?" John asked with a frown.

"A text." Sherlock replied, trying to look nonchalant. He got up and picked up his phone. He ignored the others as he read it. He quickly shifted subjects.

"Did you know there were other people after her too, Mycroft, before you sent John and I in there? That wouldn't happen to be the real reason you had us drop L off first, now would it?"

"Yeah, thanks for that Mycroft." John said, turning his attention.

Mrs. Hudson came in then with a tray of breakfast. She smiled at L as she carefully placed a plate of blueberry pancakes in front of him. He noted the additional sugar drizzled over them and thanked her with a big grin.

Mrs. Hudson went on to scold Mycroft for putting Sherlock in danger as she passed the rest of the plates around. Exasperated by the whole thing, Mycroft told her to shut up. Sherlock and John both turned on him instantly, furiously chiding and glaring. L snickered to himself as Mycroft stood there, taken aback and at a lost. He carefully apologized after a moment. Mrs. Hudson continued on, satisfied.

"Though do, in fact, shut up." Sherlock said after her. L just shook his head with a smile.

Mycroft left the room then to take a phone call. Sherlock watched him closely but was distracted as John began questioning him again about his phone. Sherlock tried to brush it off by saying it was a prank but that didn't stop John.

"I'm wondering who could have got hold of your phone, because it would have been in your coat, wouldn't it?" Sherlock lifted the newspaper so that it obscured his face.

"I'll leave you to your deductions." He simply said.

"I'm not stupid, you know." John said with a smile.

"Where do you get that idea?" L ate another piece of his pancake, silently amused. Mycroft strolled back into the room, phone still to his ear. He finished his conversation then hung up.

"What else does she have?" Sherlock asked, looking up from his paper. Mycroft turned to him, waiting for him to elaborate. "Irene Adler. The Americans wouldn't be interested in her for a couple of compromising photographs. There's more."

"Much more." He emphasized as he stood up to face his brother. Mycroft maintained a stony face, revealing nothing. Sherlock stepped closer.

"Something big is coming, isn't it?"

"Irene Adler is no longer any concern of yours. From now on you will stay out of this." Mycroft said. L frowned at that. It didn't feel like Mycroft's usual controlling ways; there was a real warning behind it, one L was sure Sherlock would ignore.

"Oh, will I?" Sherlock asked, locking eyes with Mycroft.

"Yes, Sherlock, you will." Sherlock simply shrugged and turned away.

"Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a long and arduous apology to make to a very old friend." Mycroft said.

"Do give her my love."

Sherlock picked up his violin and started playing "God Save the Queen." Mycroft rolled his eyes and left the room. L and John grinned as Sherlock followed along behind him, playing all the while. Sherlock moved to the window after Mycroft rushed down the stairs.

Irene sent Sherlock many messages and though it seemed Sherlock never responded, he always read them and seemed to think about her often. L knew Sherlock's interest in Irene was mainly due to her intelligence as was always the case with Sherlock as seen with Moriarty and L himself. He didn't feel as concerned about Sherlock's interest or fixation on Irene as he did during the Moriarty case though he still wasn't happy about it. L didn't see Irene as an immediate danger like Moriarty; she wouldn't kill Sherlock or anyone he cared about in order to "burn" his heart out but she was still a threat to it. It really seemed like she was in the perfect position to worm her way into Sherlock's heart and damage it from the inside. Sherlock was very vulnerable and inexperienced with manners of the heart. L was certain that if Irene betrayed him, Sherlock would lock his heart up even tighter than it was already; he'd never willingly trust anyone else beyond those he already trusted, which were so few. L didn't want to ever see that. L didn't know if Irene meant Sherlock harm or if she was even fully aware of just how capable she was of doing so.

Time passed rather quickly and suddenly it was almost Christmas. L didn't say as much but he got a bit emotional when he realized it was not only his first Christmas with Sherlock and John but his first Christmas with anyone of meaning in years. He was sure the two men noticed this but neither mentioned it. He didn't know if Sherlock thought much of the holiday but L wasn't going to let that stop him from celebrating it with them to the fullest. He decided to use his allowance to find gifts for the two. He asked Mrs. Hudson if she would go shopping with him. She gladly agreed so they bundled up against the cold and headed out.

L wasn't really sure what he should get for the two at first. He never had to buy something for someone before so he was at a bit of lost. He knew he was rather limited financially so he wasn't planning anything grand but rather something practical and useful. They looked for a couple hours before L finally found something that he thought John might appreciate. It was a sleek black notebook with a slot along the binder for a pen. L had noticed that John's notebook was filling up. The man used it to take notes on cases but also to write down sudden thoughts he would later add to his blog. It was about time for a new one. It was a bit pricy but not too bad.

Sherlock was harder to find something for. Nothing really practical came to mind and L was pretty sure Sherlock would scoff at anything sentimental. Sentimental it would have to be it seemed as L was stuck awe struck at the item before him. It was a beautifully crafted king chess piece, highly detailed and subtly patterned. It was made from glass and slightly larger in size than the usual pieces, clearly meant to be decorative rather than used in the actual game. The piece was clearly meant to be a white one but the glass had a slight bluish tint to it, reminding L of Sherlock's eyes. L knew that Sherlock didn't particularly like the game but he still played with L every now and then and that meant a lot to him. L never told Sherlock this since the man had little patience for sentimental things despite being rather sentimental himself at times. L still wanted to show how much those little matches, those moments where he had Sherlock's full attention meant to him. It was considerably more expensive than the notebook but L had to have it. He started calculating how many little jobs he'd have to do for the neighbors so he could have enough money. Mrs. Hudson decided to pay the remaining amount. She insisted that he could pay her back later over time. L was hesitant but ultimately agreed. Overall, L felt it was a rather successful first try for him.

It was decided that there would be a Christmas Eve party at Baker Street with their friends. Naturally, it was more Mrs. Hudson and John's idea than Sherlock's. It started off better than expected however. Sherlock humored Mrs. Hudson and played Christmas songs on his violin for her. He only really started misbehaving when John's current girlfriend arrived. Sherlock pretended not to remember which one she was and used a rather insulting way to remember. L just shook his head at him but it did make L wonder for a moment whether John really thought the relationship was going to last. L doubted it would. Sherlock took up too much of John's time for him to really develop a nice, stable relationship with anyone else, at least in L's opinion, not that he had any experience with romantic relationships or any relationships in general.

Things really seemed to spiral from there with the arrival of Molly Hooper. Sherlock was clearly reaching the end of his ropes regarding the usual, expected pleasantries and everything. Molly's attempt to catch Sherlock's interest with a nice dress was unsuccessful. L really pitied the woman; she was trying so hard. Sherlock, being his usual self, couldn't hold in his deductions whether it was telling Lestrade that his wife was cheating on him or that John's sister was still drinking. It was then that he turned his famous Sherlock scan on Molly.

"I see you've got a new boyfriend, Molly, and you're serious about him. In fact, you're seeing him this very night and giving him a gift." There was no way this was going to end well and John and Lestrade clearly realized this as both tried to shut Sherlock up but the man wouldn't be stopped.

"Oh, come on. Surely you've all seen the present at the top of the bag, perfectly wrapped with a bow. All the others are slapdash at best. It's for someone special, then."

The man started walking Molly's way. The woman was clearly uncomfortable but couldn't seem to speak up.

"The shade of red echoes her lipstick, either an unconscious association or one that she's deliberately trying to encourage. Either way, Miss Hooper has love on her mind. The fact that she's serious about him is clear from the fact she's giving him a gift at all."

Oh god, he was so dense at times. L hopped up and grabbed the gift just as Sherlock was reaching for it. This succeeded in distracting the man for the moment at least. L now had his full attention. L held the gift close, away from prying hands. He directed a firm look Sherlock's way.

"Enough."

Sherlock seemed to come back to himself then, fixing his gaze on Molly. The woman wasn't quite on the verge of tears yet but was clearly preparing herself for the worst. Sherlock turned away then stopped. He turned back and slowly approached Molly. He stopped in front of her and hesitated momentarily.

"I am sorry. Forgive me."

Speechless, Molly nodded after a second or two. Sherlock drew back and walked away amidst the stunned silence. L smiled to himself before carefully handing the gift to Molly. She took it gratefully, giving L a shaky smile. L returned to his seat, grabbing another cookie while John wasn't looking.

Whatever peace returned was interrupted once more by a familiar text alert. Molly and Lestrade, having never heard it before, were startled and confused but Sherlock just pulled his phone out without concerning himself with them. John narrowed his eyes Sherlock's way.

"Fifty-seven." He called out, successfully catching Sherlock's attention. The man looked up from his phone.

"What?"

"Fifty-seven of those text, at least the ones I've heard." John's voice was tense and rather disapproving.

Lestrade didn't quite know what was going on but the sound of the text alert and John's reaction was definitely curious. The inspector threw L an incredulous look. It was easy to see just what assumptions the man was making and L didn't blame him. L wasn't sure if jealous was the most accurate way to describe the way John had been acting but it certainly would seem that way to others. He wasn't sure if even the doctor knew why he felt whatever it was he felt. L gave a shrug in return.

Sherlock turned his attention back to his phone. The man suddenly walked to the mantelpiece, responding a bit distractedly.

"Thrilling that you've been counting."

L watched as the man picked up a small box, wrapped in blood-red paper. It was neatly tied with a black rope-like string. L stood instantly as Sherlock's face tightened suddenly. The man excused himself and made for his bedroom. John showed a moment of concern but he didn't seem that worried as he was still dwelling on the text messages.

"D'you ever reply?" He called after the man but he was ignored as the bedroom door closed behind Sherlock.

L stared after the man but ultimately sat back down. He looked at plate of cookies still in front of him but the worry churning in his gut cost him his appetite.

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Sherlock never returned to the sitting room that night. Eventually Molly, Lestrade and Mrs. Hudson left. John had plans to go out with his girlfriend but then he got a call from Mycroft. Irene Adler had been found dead. Sherlock had predicted it when it turned out that present from the mantle was Irene's still locked camera phone. He had gone and identified the body. Mycroft was worried that Sherlock might have a relapse so he had John and L search the flat for any drugs. They found none but Mycroft still asked John to stay and watch Sherlock. John's girlfriend didn't take it well. She clearly wasn't going to take being second priority to Sherlock Holmes. L winced as John accidentally mixed her up with his last girlfriend while trying to convince her to stay. Yeah…John wouldn't be seeing her again.

Sherlock did eventually return to the flat. John and L had waited for him in the sitting room. The man said nothing at first; he just looked around the room, not responding to John. Looking at him, L wasn't sure if the reality of the situation had fully set in yet. The man's face was a bit tense but overall emotionless. Sherlock finally spoke.

"Hope you didn't mess up my sock index this time." He then retreated to his room, slamming the door behind him.

Christmas morning wasn't any better. You couldn't even call it Christmas morning; there was no bright cheerfulness as presents were exchanged and opened and no warm feeling as time was spent with those close to you. L still got a present from John and Mrs. Hudson and had given his gift to John but it wasn't at all like L was anticipating. The events of the night before had completely trumped any good feeling.

Sherlock had taken to composing on his violin and wasn't eating at all, which wasn't entirely out of the norm but still concerning given what had happened. The noticeably sad tune was more revealing than the man's closed off expression. L watched the man with sad eyes, clutching the present that had taken him a long while to wrap under the guidance of Mrs. Hudson. He hated seeing the man like this. L knew cheering the man up was beyond him but he still wanted to at least distract him for a moment.

Sherlock continued to play, either ignoring or unaware as L stepped into the room. He carefully put the present down on the table where he knew Sherlock would see it eventually; it was a bit hard to miss as the white wrapping paper stood out on the dark wood. It hurt to think that the meaning behind the present had changed from expressing gratitude and care to distracting Sherlock from his pain over losing someone. L quietly left the room. He didn't worry at this point anymore whether Sherlock liked the gift but part of him was still reluctant to see the man's rejection of it.

L decided to go sit with Mrs. Hudson for a while. He passed John on the doctor's way out the front door. The man gave him a forced grin, just as concerned about Sherlock as him. L waited at the bottom of the stairs until the door closed behind the man then made his way to Mrs. Hudson's flat.

John stood outside the door a moment and let out a sigh. He made to turn to the left and continue on but was stopped.

"John?"

John didn't recognize the attractive woman standing in front of a parked black car but the situation was familiar enough. He sighed.

"You know, Mycroft could just phone me, if he didn't have this bloody stupid power complex."

Despite his complaints, he obediently slipped into the car, leaving the door open for the woman to follow him in. Their destination was rather ironic considering what he had said about Mycroft before getting in the car. John followed the woman into the large power plant. She led him down a series of twists and turns before gesturing him on alone. John entered the large room and looked around. He started talking even before he saw the umbrella wielding man.

"He's writing sad music. He doesn't eat and barely talks, only to correct the television." Finally someone stepped out of the shadows on the other end of the room. He approached, still talking all the while.

"I'd say he was heartbroken but he's Sherlock. He does all that anyw..." He trailed off once he saw just whom he was speaking to.

"Hello Dr. Watson." Irene Adler greeted him. She had her hair all done up nice while wearing the same lipstick as before and clearly not dead.

John just stared at her, disbelieving. Something stirred in him after a moment, something hot and burning. He took a deep breath, trying to contain it. His attempts at restrain quieted his voice but his expression no doubt showed the deep anger and hatred he felt for the woman in front of him at that moment.

"Tell him you're alive."

Whatever his expression or tone, Irene was unfazed. She shook her head.

"He'd come after me."

"I'll come after you if you don't." John warned or threatened; at that moment he wasn't quite sure which.

"I believe you." She said but John had the feeling she was just trying to play him; it wouldn't be uncharacteristic of her that's for sure.

"You were dead on a slab. It was definitely you." His voice was rising then.

"DNA tests are only as good as the records you keep."

"And I bet you know the record-keeper."

"I know what he likes, and I needed to disappear."

"Then how come I can see you, and I don't even want to?" She seemed just as fed up with this whole meeting as him as she finally got right to the point.

"Look, I made a mistake. I sent something to Sherlock for safe-keeping and now I need it back, so I need your help."

"No," was his immediate response.

"It's for his own safety." She insisted.

"So is telling him you're alive." There was no way John was going to let that rest.

"I can't." He started breathing heavily as the anger grew to fury.

"Fine. I'll tell him, and I still won't help you." He spun around and stormed away.

"What do I say?"

"What do you normally say? You've texted him a lot." He cried furiously, turning back. She pulled out her phone and held it up as John glared at her.

"Just the usual stuff."

"There's no 'usual' in this case." She proceeded to read back the messages from her phone.

""Good morning"; "I like your funny hat"; "I'm sad tonight. Let's have dinner"..." The last one startled John but she continued on before he could say anything.

""You looked sexy on 'Crimewatch.' Let's have dinner"; "I'm not hungry, let's have dinner"."

"You...flirted with Sherlock Holmes?!" He asked in angry disbelief.

"At him." She replied casually as if such a thing had no meaning, which to her, it probably didn't. That made it all the worse.

"Are you jealous?" She asked, clearly trying to push John's buttons.

John couldn't deny that he hated whatever it was between Sherlock and Irene but jealous might have been pushing it. However, the denial wouldn't move past his throat so maybe there was more truth to it than he initially realized.

"Oh? You're not going to deny it?"

"This isn't about me. This is about Sherlock. Tell him you're alive."

She sighed as she typed a quick message into her phone then sent it.

"There…"I'm not dead. Let's have dinner.""

Satisfied, John went to leave without sparing the woman another glance or word. Both jumped as the infamous text alert broke the tense silence. John quickly made his way towards the sound but Irene held a hand out.

"I don't think so, do you?" John stood there, lost on just what to do.

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Sherlock returned to Baker Street in a slight daze. He couldn't really categorize what he was feeling upon finding Irene Adler alive and well but it wasn't entirely, if at all, positive. His emotional instability was interrupted once he reached the front door. He paused as he scanned it intently. He then slowly stepped forward, pushing the door open. He quietly entered the empty front hall, looking everything over. Mrs. Hudson's door was ajar and there were cleaning supplies left in the hallway. He frowned then moved to the stairs. The fresh marks along the wall painted a vivid picture in his mind. His whirl of emotions from earlier fully settled then. He embraced the murderous rage that filled him as he climbed the stairs.

Sherlock carefully pushed the door open to the flat, knowing what he was about the find. Mrs. Hudson and L were waiting for him along with three other men, one familiar. Sherlock's expression hardened as he saw the gun pressed against Mrs. Hudson's head. The woman was crying quietly, holding her hands together in prayer. Sherlock looked around and spotted L in a similar situation. The boy's lip was split and bleeding and his cheek was swollen but he was overall calm and composed. He watched Sherlock with sharp eyes as the man strolled into the room till he was facing the man and Mrs. Hudson.

"I believe you have something that we want, Mr. Holmes." Neilson said with the same arrogance as the day at Irene Adler's place.

"Then why don't you ask for it?" Sherlock asked, carefully approaching Mrs. Hudson. He gently grasped her shaking hands. He used that moment to better assess the damage done to the poor woman. There are bruises on her right wrist, a tear in the shoulder of her cardigan, and a cut on her cheek. The source of the cut was easily traced back to the bloody ring on the man's hand.

"I've been asking this one. She doesn't seem to know anything and the boy wouldn't answer our questions and was making thing rather difficult so…" He trailed off but Sherlock understood. That explained L's state.

"But you know what I'm asking for, don't you, Mr. Holmes?" Sherlock stared intensely at the man, visually noting all his vital points; he had a strong urge to brutally take advantage of those points.

"I believe I do." He let go of Mrs. Hudson's shaking hands and stepped back, restraining himself from lashing out that second as she whimpered.

"First, get rid of your boys."

"Why?"

"I dislike being outnumbered. It makes for too much stupid in the room." The man hesitated for a moment, glancing at L.

"Oh, don't worry. The boy is too smart to try anything now that I'm here."

"You two, go to the car." Neilson told his companions.

"Then get into the car and drive away. Don't try to trick me. You know who I am. It doesn't work." The men left then. L stayed exactly where he was, knowing Sherlock would be able to handle the situation.

"Next, you can stop pointing that gun at me."

"So you can point a gun at me?"

"I'm unarmed." Sherlock said as he stepped back and spread his arms. Neilson went to check of course. He patted Sherlock down. Sherlock rolled his eyes as the man moved behind him to check his back. Sherlock whipped out a familiar spray can from his coat and twisted around. The man screamed as Sherlock sprayed him directly in the eyes. Sherlock then head butted him. The man fell unconscious onto the coffee table.

"Moron."

Sherlock slammed the can onto the other table and hurried over to Mrs. Hudson. L joined him in consoling the woman. Sherlock moved to tie the man up in the chair that Mrs. Hudson left. L sat with the woman on the couch. Sherlock sat down and waited for Neilson to wake. It would have been better if he hadn't as Sherlock immediately broke his nose.

L didn't think it was really a good idea to have Mrs. Hudson in the room if Sherlock was going to keep that up but L understood the man didn't want her out of his sight until John got there at least. Thankfully, it wasn't long before the doctor was running up the stairs. He paused in the doorway as he took in the situation.

"Mrs Hudson's been attacked by an American. I'm restoring balance to the universe." Sherlock explained calmly as he pointed the gun at the still bound agent. John hurried to Mrs. Hudson. He put his arm around her shoulders and sent his own viscous glare at the man.

"Downstairs. Take her downstairs and look after her."

John quickly did as Sherlock told him and L followed behind. John led them to Mrs. Hudson's kitchen. He sat them both down and started tending to their cuts and bruises. A moment later something large plummeted down past the window and landed with a crash. They all looked to the window but didn't move as they heard a groan. None of them said anything as it proceeded to happen several times more.

Lestrade arrived later to take the agent away in an ambulance. Sherlock then joined the others in the kitchen. John tried to convince Mrs. Hudson to spend some time away from Baker Street but Sherlock was having none of it.

"Don't be absurd."

"She's in shock, for God's sake, and all over some bloody stupid camera phone. Where is it, anyway?"

"Safest place I know." He replied as he took a bite of some mince pie he took from the woman's fridge. Mrs. Hudson laughed as she pulled out said phone from her bra.

"You left it in the pocket of your second-best dressing gown, you clot. I managed to sneak it out when they thought I was having a cry." She said as she handed it to him. Sherlock thanked her before turning to John.

"Shame on you, John Watson. Mrs. Hudson leave Baker Street?" He put a protective arm around the woman's shoulders and pulled her close.

"England would fall." He finished sternly but chuckled when Mrs. Hudson laughed, stroking his hand. John smiled at them.

L watched from the sidelines with his own smile. It was a real heartwarming moment to see them all together like that and it was still hard to believe at times that he was part of it. The look Sherlock suddenly sent him was rather warm and L was sure there was more to it then he understood at that moment but it was nice all the same.

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Several months passed and Sherlock had no luck getting into Irene's phone. He x-rayed it and discovered that there were either small containers of acid or small explosives wired inside the casing; very protective measures to ensure that nothing would be left if someone tried to physically get into the phone. She certainly wasn't willing to take any chances, which was interesting seeing as she allowed Sherlock to hold onto it for that long. It was only a matter of time before she showed up to get it back and she had an interesting way of reintroducing herself. Sherlock was rather calm about finding the woman asleep in his bed but John didn't seem too thrilled. L just decided to retreat to John's bedroom; he wasn't quite keen on sitting through the tension that was sure to come with Sherlock and Irene eyeing each other and John trying to get them both to remember that he existed and was in the room. He was also not eager to meet the woman just yet if at all. She'd already hurt Sherlock once and that was one time too many.

Sherlock wasn't willing to simply hand the phone over but Irene didn't push too hard, which was good; L rather there not be a repeat of the drugging and beating incident. Irene didn't just want her phone back. She showed Sherlock an email she photographed that a MOD official had been bragging would save the world. She needed Sherlock in order to understand it and Sherlock, in a rare moment of naivety, deciphered it without question, seemingly just to show off.

It turned out the email was about a certain flight that was planning to depart to Baltimore the next day at six thirty from Heathrow Airport. Sherlock then made a connection to the last bit of conversation he heard when Mycroft was there last. He spent the rest of the day dwelling on it, so much so that he didn't notice when John left.

L peeked into the sitting room and scowled when he saw that Irene was trying to seduce Sherlock. It looked like Sherlock was all for it but L wasn't quite sure. Thankfully, whatever was about to happen was interrupted as the same man that took Sherlock to Buckingham Palace came to take him somewhere once more. Sherlock initially declined but the man gave him an envelope that convinced him instantly.

L stared as Irene watched from the window as Sherlock got into a car. There was an air of smugness around her that really irked him but there was no denying what he had seen earlier. At that moment when the two were sitting in front of the lit fireplace, hands momentarily locked, Irene gazed at Sherlock with not only want but genuine longing. Whatever her intentions, Irene seemed to hold feelings for Sherlock but L didn't think that would be enough to deter her from using him.

Irene backed away from the window then turned. She froze as she finally spotted him. She was startled; it seemed she had been unaware of his existence until that point. Her reaction wasn't that different from Molly's; it was rather bizarre to think that Sherlock was not only living with a child but also possibly taking care of one.

Irene approached him with a false smile, much like those used by women that pretend to fawn over other people's children just to be polite. She clearly had no real maternal affection or fondness for him.

"Hello there." She greeted with an overly sweet tone.

It had been a long time since L had been talked down to. She clearly didn't expect much from him in terms of anything really and was planning to simply humor him for a minute or two. He scowled inside but maintained a cold expression.

"Is it worth hurting him and yourself?" He asked straight out. She froze and her smile fell. He had actually managed to faze her. He was rather proud of that but he knew that she was still dangerous; he had to be careful. Her gaze shined dangerously and her lips pulled back into a razor sharp smile. She wasn't underestimating him anymore

"What do you mean?" She asked with a hint of a dare, leaning over him menacingly.

"You won't win." He continued, unfazed. "Sherlock will figure you out."

"Oh? Then what?" She asked, smirking.

"He'll leave you to die."

L didn't really believe that such a thing was in Sherlock's nature though a small part of him hoped Sherlock would at least not show her much mercy if any. Irene didn't know Sherlock that well however as there was a flash of panic and fear in her eyes that she wasn't quick enough to contain. Her arrogance and confidence quickly took over though. She straightened with a smug grin.

"Well, I'm sure that I will win so I have nothing to worry about."

L held his ground as the woman patted his head. Her sharp nails pressed against his skull for a second but they were just an empty threat; L knew she wasn't going to hurt him. She slipped past him and down the stairs with an exaggerated sway in her hips.

"Be a good boy while Sherlock is gone, alright?" She called back to him condescendingly. L didn't let it get to him. He waited for the sound of the door closing before moving from his spot. He crouched on the couch, preparing to wait however long it took for Sherlock to get home from what he was sure was the final confrontation with Irene.

Sherlock didn't acknowledge him when he walked into the flat several hours later. L said nothing when he saw the look on his face; it seemed things went as L expected them to. Sherlock just stood in the doorway, not looking anywhere in particular, then retreated to his bedroom.

L and John heard the whole story the next day from Mycroft. It turned out that the email was about a bomb threat. Mycroft had devised a plan to ensure that no one would die without letting the perpetrators know that they knew. He had the plane filled with corpses. When the bomb went off there would be no actual casualties but the people who set the bomb would believe it was a success. Sherlock explaining that email to Irene had exposed Mycroft's plan to Moriarty; she had either been working for him or he had something on her that got her to cooperate with him. Whatever it was, Irene used Sherlock to achieve her own desires.

She blackmailed Mycroft by saying if she revealed that it was Sherlock that had leaked the information, Sherlock would be in serious trouble with the government. Mycroft was willing to go along with her demands in order to protect Sherlock. Thankfully, Sherlock managed to figure out the password for Irene's phone at the last minute, taking away her protection. He didn't hesitate to unlock the phone and wasn't moved when Irene begged with tears in her eyes that she wouldn't even last six months without it.

Mycroft revealed to John two months later that Irene was dead. A group of terrorists had killed her. Mycroft decided to simply tell Sherlock that she was in witness protection. John was given her file with the lie to give to Sherlock if the man wished to look at it. He didn't but he did want to keep the phone that was inside it. John eventually gave in, looking guilty over lying to Sherlock. L was sure the lie was unnecessary. L caught a glimpse of Sherlock's soft yet smug grin as he looked through the phone that night. L was sure it was connected to Sherlock disappearing for two days not too long ago. It seemed he was right…Sherlock hadn't left Irene to die after all.

Things returned to normal after that. Nothing of note really seemed to happen for a while so L was a bit surprised to see a box with his name on it waiting for him on the kitchen table one day. The box was beautifully wrapped with blue wrapping paper and tied with a white ribbon. He cautiously opened it, fearing it might be from Moriarty. Inside was a familiar but notably new looking blue scarf. L's lips pulled back into a giant grin as he carefully pulled it out. The fabric was soft and warm to the touch. He wrapped the scarf around his neck in the same fashion he'd always seen it in.

L turned at the feeling of being watched and found Sherlock watching him. The man was leaning against the sliding door with a pleased air about him. The man's lip quirked up as he watched L mimic his style. L returned the man's amused look but couldn't stop smiling. It seemed Sherlock took L's telling Mr. Wammy that he'd be Sherlock Holmes for the children at his orphanage rather literally. L didn't mind; late or not, it was the best present he had ever received.

 **Author Note: I sort of rushed a bit at the end so sorry about that.**

 **I always knew I'd bring Watari into the story and here he is. I needed some way for L to get involved in Wammy's house. Hope it was believable. "He'll be their Sherlock Holmes." It might be a poor reason but it still makes me smile.**

 **I added a touch of almost PTSD with Sherlock when Neilson was threatening John if anyone missed it. That's where the smell of chlorine came from, he was having a bit of a flashback to the pool.**

 **It might seem strange that it took Sherlock so long to get L a present in return for the one he got but I see it as a combination of him not opening L's present for a while due to the whole Irene upset and then having to have the scarf tailored to L's size. Also I just really wanted to end the chapter on that. :)**

 **Please Review.**


	9. The Usual Unusual

**Author Note: Hello Everyone! It's finally here! Sorry for the really long delay. I should be able to work on a chapter a little bit each day from now on so the wait shouldn't be as long. I'm just glad I got this up before the semester really got started.**

 **I'm not quite set on the chapter title. Help would be appreciated.**

 **Anyway, I hope you all enjoy.**

 **Warning: Spoilers for Series 2 and possible 3**

 **Disclaimer:** **Death Note and its characters belong to Tsugumi Ohba while Sherlock and its characters belong to Arthur Conan Doyle, Mark Gatiss and Steven Mofatt**

Chapter 9: The Usual Unusual

L watched from the kitchen doorway as Sherlock literally tore the sitting room apart. The man had been off cigarettes for a while now and the lack of a case was making the urge to smoke all the stronger. John had L help him find all the secret stashes in preparation for this moment. L thought he knew what to expect but the extent of the man's frantic energy and desperation was beyond his expectations. It didn't help that Sherlock was swinging around a harpoon of all things. He used it in some case. L didn't know the details but he was glad for that as Sherlock came home covered in pig's blood.

Mrs. Hudson came up when Sherlock bellowed her name and was then subjugated to his harsh deductions at harpoon point. The man finally had a moment of some clarity when he spotted L. He then turned the harpoon his way.

"You helped John find all my stashes. Where are they?" L was sure the man was only using the harpoon as a replacement for his finger and meant no harm. However, he still found himself tensing when he remembered that Sherlock had used that same harpoon on a pig earlier that day.

"Sherlock. Leave L alone."

John's voice had gone from mildly amused to stern earlier with Sherlock's turning on Mrs. Hudson but somehow his voice managed to get even sterner. It thankfully was enough to cut through Sherlock's temporary insanity but not enough to stop him overall. He lowered his harpoon and turned away from L. He continued to stomp about the room.

"You don't understand John! I need a case!"

L turned back into the kitchen then, deciding maybe he would make another cup of tea for John. The doctor was going to need it if Sherlock kept this up much longer. Thankfully, the doorbell rang.

"Single ring." John noted.

"Maximum pressure just under the half second." Sherlock continued.

"Client." They said together, relieved in their own ways.

The client was a man named Henry Knight. He had a rather unusual way of introducing his case. L was surprised Sherlock lasted as long as he did before interrupting the documentary about Dartmoor that Henry was having them watch.

"What did you see?"

"I was just about to say."

"Yes, in a TV interview. I prefer to do my own editing." Sherlock, a bit more impatient than usual, continued to rush Henry until he finally got him talking about the death of his father.

"There's a place. It's a sort of local landmark called Dewer's Hollow. That's an ancient name for the Devil." Sherlock was unimpressed but John went along with it.

"Did you see the Devil that night?"

"Yes."

L would normally find such a reaction a bit overdramatic but the man seemed genuinely haunted by whatever he saw and clearly believed it.

"It was huge. Coal-black fur, with red eyes. It got him, tore at him, tore him apart." The man started tearing up then but he continued on.

"I can't remember anything else. They found me the next morning, just wandering on the moor. My dad's body was never found."

"Dog? Wolf?" John tried to reason but Sherlock naturally went straight to the unusual.

"Or a genetic experiment." The client didn't appreciate Sherlock's humor.

"My dad was always going on about the things they were doing at Baskerville; about the type of monsters they were breeding there. People used to laugh at him. At least the TV people took me seriously."

"Henry, whatever did happen to your father, it was twenty years ago. Why come to us now?" John asked. Henry ignored him though and stood up.

"I'm not sure you can help me, Mr. Holmes, since you find it all so funny."

Sherlock managed to reel him back in by deducing that something major had happened to him last night. There were also other little things just to show off. John tried to stop him but Sherlock just continued on full throttle.

"You came up from Devon on the first available train this morning. You had a disappointing breakfast and a cup of black coffee. The girl in the seat across the aisle fancied you. Although you were initially keen, you've now changed your mind. You are, however, extremely anxious to have your first cigarette of the day. Sit down, Mr. Knight, and do please smoke. I'd be delighted."

John sighed at that last piece but didn't bother getting involved anymore. Henry looked impressed but also a bit scared, which was understandable really. He slowly sat back down and started fishing around in his pockets.

"How on earth did you notice all that?"

Sherlock went on to point out all the little bit and details that came together to form his deduction. As always it was impressive. He rather ruined it though at the end.

"Now shut up and smoke."

Henry did just that despite John's disapproving frown. L's nose wrinkled at the smell. He got up and retreated to the kitchen where he could still hear everything. John tried to go over everything that was mentioned so far but was constantly distracted by Sherlock breathing in Henry's exhaled smoke. Henry clearly didn't know how to react to the detective diving into his personal space in pursuit of the smoke but kept smoking anyway. Thankfully, Sherlock did eventually sit back down and focus once more.

"And what happened when you went back to Dewer's Hollow last night, Henry? You went there on the advice of your therapist and now you're consulting a detective. What did you see that changed everything?"

"It's a strange place, the Hollow. Makes you feel so cold inside, so afraid." Sherlock rolled his eyes.

"Yes, if I wanted poetry I'd read John's emails to his girlfriends. Much funnier." John managed to maintain his professionalism and didn't respond to that. Not that it mattered as Sherlock didn't give him a chance to.

"What did you see?"

"Footprints. On the exact spot where I saw my father torn apart." Any interest Sherlock had evaporated then. L knew Henry would be thrown out in a moment or two. He felt a bit sorry for the man.

"Is that it? Nothing else. Footprints. Is that all?"

"Yes, but they were-"

"No, sorry, Dr. Mortimer wins. Childhood trauma masked by an invented memory. Boring! Goodbye, Mr. Knight. Thank you for smoking." Sherlock stood up and headed into the kitchen, smoothly dodging around L. Henry wasn't done though.

"Mr. Holmes, they were the footprints of a gigantic hound!" He called after him.

Sherlock stopped dead in his tracks then slowly turned. He came and stood next to L in the kitchen doorway.

"Say that again."

"Mr. Holmes, they were the footprints of a gigantic...hound." Henry said slowly.

That was enough. Sherlock decided to take the case. Bags were quickly packed and they were soon on a train headed for Dartmoor. L greatly enjoyed his first train ride. He peered out the window with bright eyes. He didn't vocally express his enjoyment but it wasn't necessary; both men knew him well enough to see it. He could guess when they were there even without hearing what stop it was. The view outside the window went from bright greens and blues to grey sky and white fog. It wasn't enough to stifle Sherlock's new mood though. All that restless energy from the past few days was gone now, replaced with determination and intense focus.

They rented a car and drove up to Grimpon Village. They stopped right before to check out where the Baskerville Lab and Dewer's Hollow were. They discovered that there was a minefield between the two. That's something to look out for at night. They found an inn to stay at. There was a tour guide outside it. It seemed the hound that Henry had mentioned was a bit of a tourist attraction as the man had a sign that warned people of the hound and even had a hairy head mask. Sherlock moved about the pub area as John went to get them rooms. L looked between the two then decided to follow Sherlock as he moved outside.

"Interesting place to have a family vacation." The barman and inn keeper said to John. He continued on, not giving the doctor the chance to correct him. "Not that we don't appreciate it. Tourism is doing a lot for this place. Hope your son is of the brave sort. Wouldn't want him getting scared." John sighed and kept his protests to himself.

He noticed something on the counter when the man went to get his change. He ripped the receipt for meat supplies off the till and stuffed it in his pocket. He thanked the man and grabbed the keys. He spotted Sherlock and L talking with the tour guide outside. He moved to join them when the tour guide left but found himself stopping just to watch the two. Sherlock smirked down at the boy and said something. L's shoulders shook with his quiet laughter. Sherlock's eyes light up and he grinned. He soon chuckled along. It was entirely domestic and heartwarming. L spotted him and waved him over with a smile. John returned it as he walked over. Maybe the innkeeper wasn't too far off.

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L was both relieved and annoyed that he was forced to stay at the inn while Sherlock and John went to investigate Baskerville. It was more the being left behind that annoyed him. He wasn't really eager to see the lab itself. It certainly wouldn't be an enjoyable visit, especially since Sherlock and John were technically sneaking in, pretending to be Mycroft. There was no way they could explain a child's presence while under the guise of important government men.

John explained what happened at the lab later when they came back to pick L up before heading for Henry's house. They were almost caught but Sherlock expected they would be found out eventually. A man named Dr. Frankland vouched for them though in the end, getting them out. Frankland was a fan of Sherlock and John's and went along with the whole thing. L will admit that was a bit suspicious of him and he was sure Sherlock felt the same. He was a friend of Henry's father and was willing to help, so much so he gave Sherlock his number. Other than that, they didn't find anything really concrete. They did find the mother of the little girl that had requested Sherlock through his website to find her glow in the dark rabbit. Dr. Stapleton specialized in genetic manipulation so Sherlock thought she was someone to consider regarding the potential genetic experiment that Henry saw.

Upon arriving at Henry's house, L realized that the man's overall state was only a result of anxiety and stress and not really a reflection of his financial status. In other words, Henry was rather well off. Sherlock showed no surprise but that itself wasn't a surprise. Henry welcomed them easily enough and wasn't even offended at John's surprised question about him being rich.

L stared at Henry, taking in the state of him. The man was clearly drained. He leaned most of his weight on the counter of the kitchen and his eyes had a slightly glazed look to them. He looked like he was reaching the end of his ropes. John shot the man a concerned look and scrambled to reassure him.

"Sherlock's got a plan."

"Yes. We take you back out onto the moor and see if anything attacks you."

"What?!" Sherlock ignored John's shocked outburst.

"That should bring things to a head."

Henry seemed more concerned about having to go at night than anything. L wasn't sure this was such a good idea.

"That's your plan?" John stared, flabbergasted for a moment. He snorted. "Brilliant." Sherlock scoffed at John's sarcasm.

"Got any better ideas?"

"That's not a plan."

"Listen, if there is a monster out there, John, there's only one thing to do: find out where it lives."

Sherlock gave Henry one of his false wide smiles as he took a sip of his coffee. It wasn't enough to encourage or reassure the man. He didn't outright refuse though. He was putting a lot of trust in Sherlock but L was sure it was because he was his last hope at that point.

He refused to be left behind this time. He wanted to be part of the case so he put his foot down. Sherlock didn't seem to care either way whether he went with them to Dewer's Hollow. John of course wasn't so set on the idea. He didn't really know if there was anything dangerous there or not but the possibility still made him hesitate. He finally relented after a while.

"Alright. You stay with me though."

L grinned. He quickly got his coat and shoes on. He then got his scarf and tied it just right. He turned to John and Sherlock and puffed his chest out a bit. They both smiled at him, amused. He made sure to stick right by John as they maneuvered through the darkness. Thankfully, the doctor didn't feel the need to hold his hand or anything. He and John took up the rear of the group as they approach the entrance of the woods that would lead to Dewer's Hollow.

John stopped suddenly and looked around. L was forced to stop as well because of their agreement. He followed John's gaze until he saw what held the doctor's attention. On top of a hillside a decent distance away was a flashing light. It had a strange pattern to the flashing though and he understood that John's soldier mind immediately went to Morse code. John had taught him Morse code but it wasn't second nature to him as it was to the former soldier. He looked back to where Sherlock and Henry were but saw they had already left them behind. That put him on edge but he didn't rush the doctor until he was done with the code but even then he doubted the light was really anything important.

He and John finally went to rejoin Sherlock and Henry. It wasn't easy catching up though as they weren't entirely sure which way the two went. Both froze when a howl pierced the air. He felt a deep coldness spread through him. He almost broke the agreement but stopped himself from running off to find Sherlock on his own. John of course was just as worried so soon they were both running. They caught up rather quick then as Sherlock and Henry were on their way back. Sherlock stormed past them without a word but Henry was talking frantically.

"We saw it. We saw it."

"I didn't see anything." Sherlock protested, keeping his swift stride.

L frowned. Despite what Sherlock said, something clearly happened. He couldn't get a good look at Sherlock right then as he hurried after him and the others. However, the man's shoulders were tense and hunched slightly. His fists were clenched tight and his pace was more hurried than his usual purposeful stride.

John took Henry home while L trailed after Sherlock on his way back to the inn. He wasn't even sure the man was aware that he was there and that was more than enough to alarm him. He followed because he felt he had to do something to help. He wasn't good at comfort. He wasn't quite as unaware about those things as Sherlock but it was really John that understood better what to say. That's why he was waiting for John so when Sherlock took a seat in front of the pub's fire, he left the seat next to him open and instead sat near the wall.

He knew John would be joining them soon and he was sure the doctor was going to make a beeline right for Sherlock. John no doubt noticed that something was off with Sherlock and if not he was going to want to question him about what happened. In the mean time, L was going to do what he did best...observe and see if he could figure out just what was wrong.

The longer he sat there, the more concerned he got. Sherlock was just staring blankly into space. He couldn't even describe the expression on his face but it was one he had never seen on the man's face before. Upon looking closer, he noticed there was a tremble to Sherlock's hands. The man eventually waved to the bartender. The bartender frowned initially but approached him regardless. The man left then came back with a drink for him. Sherlock almost downed it in one go. L had enough then. Something was wrong and he needed to know what.

John wandered in just as he was standing up. Looking at Sherlock, he decided the man hadn't noticed the doctor yet. John looked tired and unsure. L quickly made his way to intercept him before he reached Sherlock. He stopped as he rushed to him.

"L?"

"Something is wrong with Sherlock." John straightened at that, worry and concern overtaking his confusion. The man's eyes immediately found Sherlock all on their own. He stood there staring at him a minute then looked back to L.

"Any ideas?"

"Even if what Henry said was right and they actually saw something, Sherlock wouldn't be so…so…afraid." L slowly finished, realizing that was what was wrong. He had seen Sherlock worry and fret but he had never seen him terrified before, not like that. L turned around to face Sherlock as he continued. "It's not like him. It's not natural."

"Can fear be created? Can it be forced?" L asked John, facing the doctor once more. John frowned heavily, not liking at all what L was implying. He didn't have an answer right then. He turned his eyes on Sherlock's lonely figure. He moved to join him. L caught his sleeve before he could though.

"Fear makes someone irrational and for Sherlock that's one of the worse things. He's not going to be very pleasant right now. I don't even know if he's aware just what is wrong. Keep this in mind. He might lash out. Don't take it to heart." John nodded. He quietly but purposefully strode over to the empty chair L left for him.

L hesitated then. Should he leave the two alone or should he stay? He settled for an in between. He moved back to the wall. There he could at least watch but not necessarily hear. John's presence didn't seem to affect Sherlock much at first but the longer they talked, the more agitated he got. John kept his eyes trained on Sherlock all the while though even when the man yelled at him.

"There is nothing wrong with me!"

L winced at that, wondering if maybe he shouldn't have let John talk with him yet after all. Normally, John was just what Sherlock needed but not this time, it only proved further that something was wrong. L could see the moment that Sherlock went too far. John reeled slightly at whatever Sherlock spat out. His concerned face went blank but L still caught the flash of devastation and…resignation? He mumbled something then left with clenched fists. L scrambled over trying to catch him but wasn't quick enough.

Watching the doctor leave, L regretted the whole thing. He should have talked to Sherlock himself, at least then he would have lashed out at him and not John. He wasn't sure if he could handle the full assault of Sherlock Holmes but he'd still prefer it be him, at least then he wouldn't have had to watch John leave like that. That was not a retreating soldier but a defeated man just barely keeping himself together.

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Henry's therapist Dr. Mortimer showed up at the pub not too long after John left. Sherlock had calmed down by then and naturally didn't want to miss such an opportunity. He pulled out his phone and started texting. L knew just who and what he was texting when the man took a subtle picture of the woman. L wasn't surprised when John didn't return despite the text. Sherlock frowned and ultimately took matters into his own hands. L decided not to stay and watch Sherlock attempt to get information out of Mortimer. There was no place L could really go except to bed. Sleep was hard coming as usual really but this time at least it was because of L dwelling on what happened. L finally drifted to sleep once he heard the door open, signaling the return of the doctor.

John was gone by the time L woke up but Sherlock was lingering in the pub. The detective was clearly waiting but it wasn't L he was waiting for. L was relieved to see the man's face fall when it was just L that joined him. He was sure then that Sherlock's words last night weren't said entirely of his own volition. He hadn't meant to hurt John but it was still up to him to explain and apologize. That would have to wait apparently since the doctor was nowhere to been seen at the moment.

Sherlock decided to head for Henry's and it seemed he had made a break through on the case if his high energy was any indication. Henry was the complete opposite. The man looked like he hadn't slept properly in weeks.

"Shall I make you some coffee?" Sherlock asked Henry with his false wide smile.

The man definitely had something in mind; he wouldn't offer to make coffee for anyone except maybe John. Despite Sherlock's suspicious behavior, L decided not to follow him into the kitchen. He instead looked to their client. Henry had to know a bit what to expect from Sherlock by then but he still seemed a bit disheartened by how easily Sherlock disregarded him. The man looked after Sherlock and sighed, defeated. L moved to stand beside him, not too close but close enough that it was clearly intentional.

Henry jumped a bit when he noticed him. He looked down at him expectedly. L didn't say anything though. The man had no doubt heard every word of comfort and reassurance possible before by neighbors and fellow villagers. They wouldn't have any real meaning to him anymore. L instead relied on his silence and presence to comfort. Sherlock might be focusing more on the case at that moment but L hadn't forgotten why they were doing this…who they were doing this for. Henry seemed to understand as he relaxed and gave a slow, tired smile.

L looked back towards the kitchen when he spotted Sherlock in his peripheral. Sherlock had been watching them from the doorway, for how long L didn't know. L caught a glimpse of the man's soft expression, absent of the forced cheer and high energy from a minute ago. He put on another air when Henry also noticed him but it was noticeably subdued compared to earlier.

"Sorry Henry but I think I have to skip the coffee."

L followed Sherlock out. He paused though to give Henry a small wave. The man smiled again and waved back. There was no energy behind it but the fact he still did it despite how tired he was gave it real meaning.

L asked Sherlock where they were going but the man didn't answer. He was looking around though so it was easy to figure out that he was looking for John. They did find him. L wasn't sure if he should be concerned or not that they found him in a church graveyard in front of a war memorial. John didn't notice them. The doctor was flipping through his notes but it was clear that his mind wasn't on them. His features were worn and tired, making him look even older than the war already did. L wondered how much sleep he actually got last night.

Sherlock hesitated. L looked up and watched his face pinch. L understood without asking. They all knew that emotions weren't really Sherlock's area of expertise. The man was lost and unsure on just how to talk to John right then. He wasn't always aware of them but John's feelings were important to Sherlock, L was sure of that, even when cases sometimes took priority.

L stepped back after a minute. Sherlock peeked at him but naturally understood. He took a deep breath then finally ventured forward. L stayed where he was even though he couldn't hear from there. He didn't doubt that the two would recover. The two cared too much about each other for them not to. L was sure that John had already forgiven but that didn't mean he still didn't need to hear an apology. Everyone doubted every now and then despite what Sherlock might think about himself. John knew Sherlock cared for him and didn't mean to hurt him but he still needed to hear it.

"John!"

L shook off his thoughts and looked back to what was happening. John was walking his way as Sherlock chased after him. The doctor didn't stop but he was smiling. Sherlock's apology was apparently good enough for him but he wasn't above prolonging it to make sure Sherlock learned his lesson. John smirked at him as he passed. L chuckled as he fell into step with him. Sherlock followed, sulking.

They found someone waiting for them at the inn. Not even Sherlock expected Lestrade to come out to join them but he quickly figured out it was Mycroft's doing though Lestrade denied it. John used that moment to share the receipt he took earlier. The amount of meat was very suspicious for a vegetarian restaurant. John smiled as Sherlock praised him for his find. Lestrade looked confused as Sherlock just silently stared at John with a warm, relieved look.

"Nice scary inspector from Scotland Yard who can put in a few calls might come in very handy." John continued, not noticing the staring. He hit the bell on the counter and called out for the innkeeper, glowing with confidence.

Lestrade used his position as an inspector to gather more invoices from the same meat supply shop. The innkeeper and chef were nervous when confronted with an inspector from the big city. L will admit it was rather cool to see the man at work. He hadn't even started asking questions yet, just slowly looking through the paper work but that was clearly putting the men more on edge.

L was distracted from this as Sherlock came over, carrying a mug. He offered it to John. This baffled John and L. Sherlock would sometimes make John tea back at the flat but that was rare and always during a quiet moment of domestic peace. He never would during a case since usually the thought doesn't occur to him with his mind focused solely on the case.

"You don't have to keep apologizing." John told him.

Sherlock looked away, expression falling. L frowned, taking in the hurt on the man's face. This moment just got more bizarre. He knew the two just went through a tough spot but that was no reason for Sherlock to be hurt over such a small thing. John didn't question it though. The doctor relented and took the mug from Sherlock. He grimaced with the first sip though.

"I don't take sugar…" He trailed off as the hurt look returned. John bit his lip then took another longer sip.

L stared, suspicious. Sherlock had just manipulated John. There was no way Sherlock didn't know how John liked his coffee even if he had never made it for him before. Sherlock's reactions were out of character and meant to get John to drink the coffee out of guilt. Why? Why was it important to get John to drink it? Unless the coffee itself wasn't important but the guilt he made John feel but that didn't make sense either. Sure John had milked Sherlock's attempt at an apology earlier but Sherlock wasn't one for such petty retaliation…at least not with John...usually. Even then why would it be centered on coffee of all things? No, it had to be the coffee that was important. L stared at Sherlock during his thoughts but the man stubbornly ignored him. His musings were interrupted as the innkeeper finally started telling the truth.

"Look, we were just trying to give things a bit of a boost, you know? A great big dog run wild up on the moor. It was heaven-sent. It was like us having our own Loch Ness Monster."

"Where do you keep it?"

"There's an old mineshaft. It's not too far. It was all right there."

"Was?" Sherlock prompted, noticing the term use.

"We couldn't control the bloody thing. It was vicious. And then, a month ago, Billy took him to the vet and…you know."

"It's dead?" John asked, putting down the mostly full mug.

"Yeah. No choice. So it's over. It was just a joke, you know?"

"Yeah, hilarious." The men tensed at Lestrade's tone. He stood up and towered over them.

"You've nearly driven a man out of his mind."

They followed behind Lestrade as he left. L caught the quick look Sherlock sent the mug. The man breezed past him, still ignoring his questioning stare. L huffed. It seemed he'd just have to wait and see what Sherlock was planning. Lestrade left then with a big smile.

"So that was their dog that people saw out on the moor?" John asked

"Looks like it."

"But that wasn't what you saw. That wasn't just an ordinary dog."

"No." Sherlock's gaze became distant as he finally described what he saw. "It was immense, had burning red eyes and it was glowing, John. Its whole body was glowing." A faint shudder went through Sherlock at the memory. L wondered if it was genuine. Sherlock didn't linger on the topic. He headed for the car with L and John following.

"I've got a theory but I need to get back into Baskerville to test it."

"How? Can't pull off the ID trick again." John asked, not looking particularly happy about going back.

"Might not have to."

Realizing what Sherlock was going to do, L chuckled as Sherlock pulled his phone out. Sherlock winked at him before speaking with an amused smirk.

"Hello, brother dear. How are you?"

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With Mycroft's permission, they had no trouble getting back into Baskerville. L was even allowed to go with them. He definitely got a lot of bewildered stares from everyone they passed but that was expected. Sherlock and John split ways. L followed Sherlock, hoping that keeping with him would give a hint as to what the man was planning.

Major Barrymore wasn't too pleased when Sherlock mentioned getting unlimited access. Sherlock had L stand outside the room so he didn't really hear much of what Sherlock told him. He didn't mind. He'd rather not face the Major, especially since he would probably demand they take L elsewhere. It must have gone Sherlock's way though. The detective strode with a grin. L hurried behind him, attempting to keep up with the man's long legs. It was almost like the man was in a hurry. Sherlock finally stopped when they spotted a woman doctor. Sherlock introduced her as Dr. Stapleton. What Sherlock did then was the final straw.

"There's something else I really must look into. L, I want you to stay with Stapleton and ask her these questions." He handed L a written list, notepad and pen. "Make sure to write her answers word for word." He flashed L an encouraging smile.

Stapleton didn't object but she didn't consent either but Sherlock was already off. L stared after him. Alarm bells were ringing in his mind. It just didn't fit. It wasn't that Sherlock gave him this responsibility but rather he was leaving him alone with someone that earlier was a suspect and might still be. Even if Sherlock was certain he wouldn't be harmed, John would have never had let Sherlock leave him alone in this place. Was that why Sherlock had them split up earlier? Why did he need to be alone? L stuffed the notepad and list into his pockets then hurried after the man. Stapleton didn't even try to stop him. Sherlock had misread her. She may be a mother but she wasn't maternal enough to concern herself with children beside her own. That just made L run faster.

Finding Sherlock wasn't easy. L wasn't lost but there were just too many rooms to check. Thankfully, he didn't run into anyone. Then again, that was also a bit suspicious. It was as if the whole floor was deserted. That wouldn't deter him though. He was going to find Sherlock and he was going to demand he tell him what was going on.

Sherlock kept his eyes glued to the monitors, watching John run around the lab room, urged on by the growls Sherlock was providing through the intercom. It seemed his theory was right but he won't know for sure until he got John's description of what he was seeing. Sherlock kept asking him through the phone but John wasn't able to answer at that moment; he was too panicked. John's soldier instincts were still fully functioning at least. Sherlock didn't know if he should be proud or concerned when John crawled into one of the big cages, using the bars for his own protection.

"What are you doing?"

Sherlock spun his chair around in surprise. L was supposed to have stayed with Dr. Stapleton but he was there now. L stared at the monitors, confused for a second. Those eyes went wide as horror overtook them. He bolted from the room. Sherlock hung up and ran after him, knowing his test was over.

John's fear skyrocketed as he was suddenly disconnected from Sherlock. He couldn't even get himself to try and call him again. He froze as a sudden dark mass ran up to his cage and threw it open. Then it was upon him. His soldier instincts were screaming at him to fight with everything he had and he was about to do just that but stopped when he felt scrawny arms instead of teeth and claws. The arms pulled him into a small, thin chest and placed his head on a bony shoulder. He tensed but then slowly relaxed. He could think of only one person this could be. The lab lights suddenly turned on full blast, revealing that it was indeed L hugging him. His heart was still pounding so hard in his chest that it hurt but the suffocating fear eased a bit. He pushed the slight discomfort he felt at being touched to the side and let the surprisingly warm hug soothe the terror away.

Sherlock stood some distance away, watching. Seeing the doctor in person instead of through the monitors showed that he was more terrified than he had sounded on the phone. That was just like John to keep it bottled up. Sherlock had expected him to do so but not to such an extent. L immediately did though. It seemed L understood John better than he. Sherlock noticed the moment John had been about to fight for his life, no doubt injuring L in the process. No doubt L did too and probably expected it but he still pushed forward to console the doctor. John clearly needed it.

Ignoring the guilt churning inside him, Sherlock approached the two. John looked so relieved to see him but L didn't even look at him. That made something clench in his chest but he didn't dwell on that then.

"John, I need you to tell me what you saw."

"The hound." John's voice was shaky, still choked by fear. Sherlock decided to just get right to it so John wouldn't have to think about it anymore.

"Was it glowing?"

"Yes."

So his theory was correct. It didn't feel like much of a victory.

"I made up the bit about glowing. You saw what you expected to see because I told you. You have been drugged. We have all been drugged." He slowly explained, softening his voice for John's sake. John was still out of it but he seemed to understand enough.

"Can you walk?" Sherlock asked, focusing on the doctor's legs, specifically his right. If the test was too shocking or traumatic then… Sherlock wasn't sure he could forgive himself if he had crippled John even if it was just for a moment. And yet, the thought of it never occurred to him before the test. The guilt returned tenfold.

John seemed to understand what he was really asking. He scowled.

"'Course I can walk." Even his indignant tone was shaky.

"Come on, then. It's time to lay this ghost." Sherlock turned to leave but did wait for John and L to catch up. He didn't pause when he heard John stumble but only because he knew John wouldn't appreciate it.

They found Dr. Stapleton examining a white rabbit in one of the smaller labs. Sherlock scowled when he realized she just went right back to work when L ran off. She wasn't concerned in the least. He hadn't expected her to be protective or anything to that extent but he thought she would at least worry about a child running around a government military lab. He wondered how concerned she would have been if it had been her own child. He didn't confront her over it though.

"I see he found you." She said, noticing L lingering near John.

"Of course he did."

"So what's on your mind now? Going to ask those questions you mentioned?"

"No. Those are unnecessary." He reached over and turned off the light switch.

Stapleton didn't react when the rabbit on the table in front of her started to glow a bright green but she certainly looked resigned.

"Will you tell little Kirsty what happened to her beloved rabbit or shall I?" He asked once he turned the lights back on. She sighed.

"Okay. What do you want?"

"Can I borrow your microscope?"

Stapleton was baffled by the request but agreed to allow Sherlock to use one. They all moved to one of the bigger labs that had one. Sherlock immediately got to work. John plopped himself on one of the chairs. He looked rather worn out, which was understandable considering what he just went through…what Sherlock just put him through. Hot outrage burned inside L. There was no calming it but he still kept it in, only letting it out in heated glares at random objects and never at the source of the anger. L couldn't stand looking the man in the face right then and he didn't want to. He didn't want to entirely associate this feeling with Sherlock even if the man deserved it for what he did. He knew it was best to let the feeling out but it was neither the time nor place. He'd have to wait.

L's thoughts and the conversation between John and Dr. Stapleton was interrupted when Sherlock flung the slide, smashing it against the wall. L hated how John cowered slightly. Despite what he said, he clearly wasn't recovered from the test entirely.

"It's not there! Nothing there! Doesn't make any sense."

Sherlock was absolutely livid, which was a rather rare sight.

"What were you expecting to find?" Stapleton asked the now pacing detective.

"A drug, of course. There has to be a drug, a hallucinogenic or a deliriant of some kind. There's no trace of anything in the sugar."

"Sugar?"

"The sugar, yes. It's a simple process of elimination. I saw the hound. I saw it as my imagination expected me to see it: a genetically engineered monster. But I knew I couldn't believe the evidence of my own eyes, so there were seven possible reasons for it, the most possible being narcotics. Henry Knight. He saw it too but you didn't, John. You didn't see it. Now, we have eaten and drunk exactly the same things since we got to Grimpon apart from one thing: you don't take sugar in your coffee."

"I see. So..."

"I took it from Henry's kitchen…his sugar. It's perfectly all right." He looked so angry at that fact. He had been mistaken. He had been wrong.

"But maybe it's not a drug."

"No, it has to be a drug." He sat down and buried his face in his hands. "But how did it get into our systems. How?

Despite his outrage, L wanted to speak up then. Sherlock somehow had completely excluded L in his deductions. He assumed it was because the man's thoughts were still recovering from the drug he was sure was used on him. L hadn't seen the hound either and he doesn't drink coffee at all. It had to be something that made he and John an exception but included Sherlock and Henry. Sherlock and Henry hadn't spent much time together. There was the first time they went to Henry's house, which is where Sherlock had the coffee that led to his theory. They then went right to the Hollow later with the man.

The Hollow…?

That had to be it. He and John had been separated from Sherlock and Henry and hadn't actually made it to the Hollow. There was a possible connection there but he didn't understand how that would have gotten the supposed drug into their systems. There was also the question about how John started seeing the hound during Sherlock's test. Was John exposed to the drug in the lab at some point? The doctor wasn't stupid; he wouldn't have gone around sampling chemicals or drugs. L was sure it had been at the lab though. What did John do at the lab that Sherlock and Henry had also done? Nothing. He was just looking around. Looking…standing…breathing.

Breathing!

Drugs don't necessarily have to be swallowed to get into a person's system; they could be breathed in. John could have accidently inhaled it at some point. What about Sherlock and Henry? Henry had no doubt never been to Baskerville. The only places he and Sherlock had been at together were Henry's house and the Hollow. If it were in Henry's house then John and L would have been drugged as well. It had to have been at the Hollow. How would an airborne drug get into someone in such a place? L thought back on how Henry described the Hollow. Dreary, foggy, overall avoided. Foggy? Could it be…? Baskerville is a military lab. He was sure they could create something to spread the drug around in gas form **.** It was a bit farfetched but not as unbelievable as the hound actually existing.

"Get out." Sherlock demanded suddenly. "I need to go to my mind palace."

John rolled his eyes at that but left without compliant, explaining to Stapleton what Sherlock meant by mind palace. L didn't move though. He was still furious with Sherlock but whatever his feelings, the case had to come first for Henry's sake.

"It's an airborne drug." He said tensely.

Sherlock abruptly turned his way, looking surprised by his presence. L scowled. Did the man actually think he would simply do what he said after what he just did? His upset fueled him. He wasn't hesitating anymore. He'd be more than happy if he ended up solving the case instead of Sherlock. The man didn't deserve the satisfaction of it. It might be a bit childish of him but that's fine, isn't it? He is a child after all.

"The sugar wasn't how the drug got into your system. It was the fog in the Hollow. That's the only other thing both you and Henry were exposed to. John and I never made it there that night so we weren't drugged. Baskerville is the source though. John was exposed to the drug here in the lab either before or during your test." He practically spat the word out. "Check the cameras again. See what he went near."

He ignored Sherlock's stunned look and stormed from the room. It wasn't long before Sherlock was done with his mind palace. They followed him as he headed for Major Barrymore's office. Stapleton was nice enough to use her ID card to get them inside. She also lent them her password but it wasn't enough to get the information Sherlock wanted out of the system. L tuned Sherlock out as the man went about deducing what the Major's password was. It was only when John softly cursed at whatever they found in the system that he paid attention once more.

Project H.O.U.N.D. was all about researching and testing a deliriant drug that had an aerosol dispersal method. It was going to be used against enemy soldiers. The drug would disorient them with fear. The results of the tests were too horrific to read through. It explained why it was shut down. However, it seemed it was being revived. Looking at the picture of those that worked on it, they discovered a familiar face. It was time to speak to Dr. Frankland.

Through his horror, L felt proud and triumphant. He had been right. He may not have deduced all the details but he had pieced most of it together and before the great Sherlock Holmes.

Said man had stopped reading and was just silently staring at L. He couldn't help but stare. He knew of course that the boy was brilliant for his age but he never…never really understood what it would mean once he grew older and gained experience. L had been quicker than he. He had figured it out first while Sherlock had gotten hung up on his own theories. It might have been a one-time thing with the drug maybe hindering Sherlock's reasoning still and L wouldn't have solved it if it hadn't been for the test Sherlock had done but this still showed that it was possible. He didn't want to accept that. It had nothing to do with his ego and pride. If he accepted that reality, then he would have to accept the flash of emotion he quickly smothered but couldn't kill. It wasn't anger, frustration or even pride…it was fear. Fear over what L was capable of in the future. He probably wouldn't have felt this way if it weren't for…

 _"I'd love to keep him really. Just imagine what I could do with that brain of his. He'd make a great protégé."_

He shuddered at those remembered words and the man that had said them. They hadn't really meant anything then but now…

If Moriarty had kept L…if he had molded L to his desires then…He couldn't even imagine it. He didn't want to.

His phone suddenly ringing was a relief. He swiftly pulled it out and answered, ignoring those sharp eyes and how they just made him feel cold right then. The call was from Dr. Mortimer. She tearfully explained that Henry had suddenly pulled a gun on her then ran off. The man was quickly losing whatever remained of his sanity. Peeking at the documents still on the screen and the horrific pictures, he quickly sprung into action. He called Lestrade as he ran, John and L right behind him.

He just hoped they'd make it in time.

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They were in such a hurry to catch up with Henry at the Hollow that the thought of leaving L somewhere safe didn't occur to them until it was too late. L wouldn't have agreed to it regardless. There wasn't time to get anything to protect them from the drug. They would just have to bear with it until they could get Henry out of there. They got there just in time.

"No Henry!" Sherlock yelled. Henry paused, pulling the gun from his mouth as they approached.

"Get away from me!" He cried, waving the gun around. They stopped. It seemed they would have to talk him down.

"Easy, Henry. Easy. Just relax." John tried to soothe.

"I know what I am. I know what I tried to do!"

"Just put the gun down. It's okay."

"No, no, I know what I am!" Sherlock joined in then, trying to sound reassuring.

"Yes, I'm sure you do, Henry. It's all been explained to you, hasn't it? Someone needed to keep you quiet; needed to keep you as a child to reassert the dream that you'd both clung on to, because you had started to remember." He stepped closer as Henry was distracted.

"Remember now, Henry. You've got to remember what happened here when you were a little boy." Henry lowered the gun slightly but then he raised it again. His face contorted with pain, confusion and fear.

"I thought it had got my dad. I thought-" He then started screaming. "I don't know anymore!"

He brought the gun back to his face. John went to stop him but L was quicker. Henry nearly fell over with the force of L's running hug. Thankfully, his finger was off the trigger. It was enough of a distraction for John to take the gun from him. L didn't let go yet though. Henry stared down at him, dazed and confused. He soon lost his strength and collapsed to his knees, bringing L down with him. L adjusted, stubbornly holding on.

Sherlock just stared a moment, heart easing. Whatever the boy was capable of, he still had a heart bigger than Sherlock's own. There was no need to fear. He was almost ashamed of himself for thinking otherwise.

"I don't understand." Henry mumbled as L finally pulled away but stayed close. Sherlock approached and explained it all to him. It hadn't even been an animal that had killed Henry's father but a man, Dr. Frankland in fact. Henry and his father had stumbled right into where Frankland had been testing the drug so he killed his friend but left Henry alive.

"You couldn't cope. You were just a child, so you rationalized it into something very different. But then you started to remember, so you had to be stopped; driven out of your mind so that no one would believe a word that you said." Lestrade finally arrived then but he was ignored as Sherlock kept his attention on Henry.

"But we saw the hound, last night. We saw-"

"There was a dog leaving footprints and scaring witnesses, but it was nothing more than an ordinary dog. We both saw it as our drugged minds wanted us to see it. Fear and stimulus; that's how it works." Sherlock explained before the man could work himself up again. "But there never was any monster."

A howl rang out nearby as if in protest. They all turned to look. There was something stalking in the trees on top of where the ground sunk down to where they were. Henry started wailing as they all stared in shocked horror at the monstrosity. They knew now that it was the drug at work but they couldn't shake off the fear simply knowing that. Their fear spiked as it leapt down and approached them. It was at that moment that something came up behind them. Sherlock was the only one that noticed it at first. He turned and spotted Frankland in a gas mask, confirming that it was indeed the fog. He went for the man and succeeded in ripping the mask off. Now the doctor too was terrified by what they were all seeing.

"Kill it!" He yelled as the hound stalked closer.

Lestrade missed but John managed to shoot it right as it charged. Sherlock dragged Henry over and forced him to look at it. Now that it was dead, it was revealed to be a huge but regular dog. It seemed the innkeeper had lied about putting the dog down. Unfortunately, Frankland took that moment to escape. Sherlock chased after him with John right behind him. L and Lestrade kept pace with Henry as they followed. They arrived just in time to see Frankland run out onto the minefield. He didn't make it far before he stopped and it was obvious why. The man had no choice really. Lestrade forced L down as the explosion filled the air with smoke, fire and debris. L didn't look at the aftermath, afraid of what he might see. It wasn't quite the ending they had expected but the case was over nonetheless.

The next day was almost inappropriately bright considering what had happened but it was still a relief in a way. It helped push the case and all the unpleasantness behind them. Henry would be able to finally recover and Sherlock and company would get to head home. John had even forgiven Sherlock for the test he had done.

Unfortunately, not everything was right as rain. L was clearly avoiding Sherlock. This case was proving to be persistent in forcing Sherlock into situations that relied on emotion and sentiment. Sherlock sighed at how troublesome it all was. He could just leave it as is until L moved on from it but the angry disapproval and disappointment the boy clearly felt towards him was something he just couldn't quite stomach. The sight of the boy's bare neck made it all the worse. He approached L with a heavy heart, grateful he had decided to sit in such a isolated place outside the inn. He hesitated a few feet from him. Much like with John before, he didn't know how to start. L started for him.

"I don't understand how you could do it."

"It needed to be tested."

"Why John though?" Sherlock didn't even know why he was attempting to defend himself instead of just apologizing. He didn't stop though.

"John wouldn't approve of me testing it on anyone else." L scoffed, finally facing him.

"Was that really your reasoning? Did that actually cross your mind? Or were you just caught up in solving the case?" Sherlock said nothing but that was answer enough. It made L all the more incensed.

"Tell me…did you hesitate at all? Did you even think twice before putting John through all that?" L's tone softened a bit as sadness and defeat overtook him for a moment. "I've been with you long enough…I know how you are but…" L trailed off, looking down.

"I thought John at least mattered to you. I thought you cared."

"I-"

"Clearly you don't!" L snapped, cutting him off. "Did you feel anything as you watched John practically lose his mind from fear alone?"

"I knew he'd be fine." It was an obvious lie and Sherlock didn't understand why he bothered to say it.

"No! You Didn't! There's no way you could have known that for sure. There was a risk and you still took the chance. I thought you would have learned your lesson after Moriarty. You nearly lost John then and you could have lost him this time by your own hand." Sherlock's heart froze in his chest but L continued relentlessly.

"It isn't enough just to admit that you care…you have to show it; you have to treat John as a person, not a means of entertainment, not a tool, not a way to prove a point. A person. A friend."

There was nothing he could say in response. L was right. Sherlock had never really had friends and didn't exactly know how friendship worked but that was just an excuse. He hadn't made any real attempts to understand it. He might have accepted that he cared and even shared as much with John but that wasn't enough. He would have to do more and better if he wanted to keep John. L must have seen that he understood for he stopped. The boy looked better now that he had gotten all his frustration out. The issue wasn't exactly resolved. It wouldn't be until Sherlock completely changed his ways and never repeated what he had done to John but the matter was at least settled for the moment. However, there was at least one thing Sherlock could fix right then. He turned as L walked past, heading for John.

"You were wrong before." That was enough to make the boy pause though he didn't face him. "John isn't the only one…you matter too."

L startled at that, clearly surprised by the admission. He watched those tense, hunched shoulders relax before approaching. He said nothing more but risked a quick brush through those unruly locks as he passed. He smiled at the hurried steps that followed after a moment. He slowed slightly, letting L catch up. Warmth flowed through him when he saw the scarf had returned to its proper place. No more words were said but that was just fine.

 **Author Note: Because Sherlock had already confessed to John that his friendship is important to him, I actually had Sherlock use one of John's weaknesses in that scene when Sherlock lashes out because of the drug. Just what he said is up to your imagination.**

 **Hope Sherlock's momentary fear of L made sense and wasn't out of character. I don't think L is completely on Sherlock's level yet but he is definitely capable of it in the future to some degree.**

 **Please Review.**


	10. The Unusual Finale

**Author Note: Sorry for the long wait again. The semester was busier than I expected. I'll start working on the next chapter but I won't make any more promises of not taking too long.**

 **Didn't mean to but I followed L a lot in this chapter, more so than the others. It just turned out that way. I think it still works though.**

 **PLEASE REVIEW! PLEASE! EVEN IF IT'S SOMETHING SIMPLE!**

 **Warning: Spoilers for Series 2 and 3**

 **Disclaimer:** **Death Note and its characters belong to Tsugumi Ohba while Sherlock and its characters belong to Arthur Conan Doyle, Mark Gatiss and Steven Mofatt**

Chapter 10: The Unusual Finale

It all started when the name Sherlock Holmes flooded the newspapers. Recovering a famous painting, rescuing a kidnapped banker and other cases of such a scale thrust Sherlock right into the spotlight and suddenly everyone's eyes were on him.

It was certainly a drastic change from the usual but Sherlock wasn't bothered by it…at least he wasn't until a deerstalker became his trademark and he was given the name "Boffin" Sherlock Holmes. John was amused but then he learned of his own nickname.

"Bachelor John Watson? What the hell are they implying?"

L watched the two grumble to themselves over the whole thing, silently relieved he had evaded the press' eye. John and Sherlock had naturally realized such cases would garner a lot of attention and had decided to spare L that at that point in time. However, L was sure they had underestimated just how much attention it would be. John was certainly regretting it now.

"Okay, this is too much. We need to be more careful."

"What do you mean?" Sherlock asked, still messing about with the hat.

"I mean that you're not exactly a private detective any more. You're close to famous."

"It'll pass." Sherlock finally flung the deerstalker away and slumped into his chair, not sparing it another thought or glance. He brought his hands together in his typical thinking pose.

"It'd better pass. The press will turn, Sherlock. They always turn, and they'll turn on you." John leaned forward, pleading with his eyes for Sherlock to listen to him.

L couldn't help but flinch at that. John was right. The press was so fickle with everything. They didn't care about those they wrote about, not really. There might be a few that did but the goal was to write whatever interested the people most. It was a mad scramble for the best story. If that meant tearing apart the reputation of a once loved detective, well, L was sure they wouldn't hesitate.

Sherlock didn't seem inclined to take John's words seriously enough. He didn't simply disregard them though.

"It really bothers you what people say." The detective met John's gaze, taking in all the little details. John paused a moment at the soft tone.

"Yes."

"About me?" John nodded, fondness starting to creep into his gaze. "I don't understand. Why would it upset you?"

There was an undertone of bemusement and vulnerability that was almost undetectable. It seemed John did detect it though. His tension faded and his expression softened.

"Because I'm your friend, Sherlock."

Sherlock's confused frown wasn't a surprise really but it was still sad to see. The simple concept of friends shouldn't be foreign to Sherlock but it was and that revealed a lot about his life before.

"Even if what people say doesn't bother you, I still don't want to hear anyone disgrace you. I don't want anyone making up things to slander your name. I want you to get the respect and recognition you deserve but not at such a risk."

"You'd feel the same if it was my name dragged through the mud, wouldn't you?"

Sherlock's mouth opened instantly but the no doubt quick, witty response he had in mind never made it to words. Instead, it was a couple moments before a slow response broke the silence.

"Yes…I suppose I would."

He seemed mystified by his own words and though that hurt to hear, L was glad Sherlock accepted it enough to confess that. Since the Baskerville case, Sherlock had started trying to wrap his mind around just what it meant to care for someone, watching John and L and analyzing their reactions and behaviors to further his understanding. This was just another learning moment for him.

As if hearing his thoughts, Sherlock glanced his way. L gave him a nod, showing his approval. The man relaxed then turned back to John. Both got a glimpse of the doctor's warm gaze and tender smile directed Sherlock's way before he ducked his head.

"Alright then." He said, folding up the paper in his hands. "Just try to keep a low profile. Find yourself a little case this week. Stay out of the news."

Sherlock stared for a moment but kept whatever he deduced to himself for once. Instead, he gave a small, reassuring smile.

"Alright John."

Unfortunately, it was too late for that.

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They had moved on as best as they could with nightmares filled with flames, pools and sing-song taunts. They never forgot though. It always lingered in their thoughts. Questions of when and where. They got their answers in a text of all things. It was short and simple but it carried so much with it. The way John's face paled when he opened the message for Sherlock had L's heart pounding in his chest. He didn't need to know what it said.

"Sherlock…" John's voice was a touch shaky and that's what got Sherlock to pay attention. John held the phone out to him, fingers holding tight.

"He's back."

The peanut butter and jelly sandwich neatly cut by Mrs. Hudson and filled with more strawberry jam than was technically necessary now sat untouched; L didn't dare take another bite.

If there was any doubt before that Moriarty had a thing for dramatics, there wasn't now. Not only did he break into the Tower of London but he also tried on the crown and waited like a king on his throne for the police to arrest him. Going over the security footage showed he also left a message on the glass before he broke it. Unsurprisingly it was about Sherlock and it was short and to the point, just like the text message.

 _Get Sherlock._

Moriarty was in custody but L was sure that Sherlock and John shared his doubt over it being the end. The break in and Moriarty's arrest soon reached the papers. The embers of fame burst into flame. Newspapers everywhere talked about it and the name Sherlock Holmes became even better known. There was no escaping it anymore.

Sherlock and John were naturally going to take part in Moriarty's trial; there was no question there. L was torn between wanting to be there and wanting to never see again the living nightmare that was Jim Moriarty. In the end, the choice was made for him. He watched from the entryway as Sherlock and John made for the door. John straightened his suit and adjusted his tie, putting on a strong face. His nerves showed in little shifts and twitches but then were put tightly under wraps as John let the solider in him take over. He noticed L staring and gave a small smile. L didn't return it. He couldn't shake the worry churning in his gut and the slight chill in his veins. Sherlock seemed to have forgotten him entirely. The man stared at the door with a piercing yet distant stare. Once again Moriarty effortlessly became the star in Sherlock's thoughts, taking over each and every one. L was sure that none were positive this time and he couldn't be more grateful for that.

He watched as the two finally ventured out, catching a glimpse of the waiting reporters and police before the door closed behind them. He stood there a moment, staring. He jumped when two hands were suddenly placed on his shoulders. They were gentle and comforting so he wasn't surprised to see Mrs. Hudson smiling down at him.

"Come on dear. I could use some help with my baking."

The promise of sweets lifted his spirit a bit and he gladly accepted her attempts at distracting him. Stirring chocolate chips into the dough then rolling them into shape wasn't really enough to distract his thoughts. The frustration did a bit though. It seemed no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't make simple balls out of the dough. Instead, they always had a bit of a point at the ends because of how he held his hands during the rolling. It took a couple attempts with Mrs. Hudson's kindly amused guidance to get it right. It was easy to tell by looking who had rolled which ones but it didn't really matter as long as they came out right.

It was during the making of the second batch that Mrs. Hudson planned to share with the neighbors that she really started talking.

"Don't worry dear." L looked her way as she went about tidying up.

"Sherlock might be a right mess at times with him putting holes in my walls, parading about in a sheet, spreading those foul smells around, putting body parts in the fridge…"

L quietly shaped the next batch as Mrs. Hudson continued on, risking a quick taste of the dough when she wasn't looking. Her huffed yet clearly fond complaints brought a small smile to his face. The woman clearly knew Sherlock well but still loved him regardless. L couldn't help but love the woman for that…also because of her wonderful sweets.

"Oh sorry. I didn't mean to ramble on. What I meant to say was that Sherlock can handle whatever that awful man can do. And, of course John will be there too. There's nothing those two can't do when together."

It certainly seemed that way but… there was nothing else out there quite like Moriarty. It just felt like everyone was a puppet, moving as he gleefully pulled the strings, including Sherlock and John. The trial especially felt that way. Moriarty wouldn't have been arrested unless he wanted to be. Simply knowing that wasn't enough to prepare for whatever he had planned though and that's what worried L the most.

It was a while before John and Sherlock returned to the flat. By then L had moved on from baking to helping clean the kitchen. Mrs. Hudson appreciated the help though she knew it was mostly for distraction. The silence and repetitive scrubbing of counters was soothing in its own way.

He wandered from the kitchen when he heard the front door close. The two were all in their own thoughts so they started up the stairs without noticing him. Mrs. Hudson urged him on with a smile when he hesitated to leave her. He hurried up the stairs, nerves blazing. L's nerves and tension settled a moment when he saw just what he walked in on. He leaned back against the door and smiled.

"Don't do that."

"Do what?"

"You're doing the look again."

"Well, I can't see it, can I?"

It was just the sort of everyday nonsense L needed to see. Things might not be normal with the threat of Moriarty so close but it didn't mean that things would never be okay again. Sherlock and John were still the same as they always were.

"It's my face."

"Yes, and it's doing a thing. You're doing a "we both know what's really going on here" face."

"Well, we do."

"No. I don't, which is why I find The Face so annoying."

Sherlock rolled his eyes then finally spotted L. He was giving him an imploring look. It seemed he wanted L to side with him in the little spat. L was sure that John actually did know what was going on but Sherlock's usual self was throwing him off. Sherlock huffed when L didn't speak up fast enough. He moved on, taking the lightheartedness with him. L already missed it.

"If Moriarty wanted the Jewels, he'd have them. If he wanted those prisoners free, they'd be out on the streets. The only reason he's still in a prison cell right now is because he chose to be there. Somehow this is part of his scheme."

L learned later from John that Sherlock was essentially banned from returning to the trial. His inability to not be a "smart-arse," as John called it, got him in serious trouble. This time L was stuck waiting with Sherlock while John went to see the end of the trial. It was funny in a way to see Sherlock sulking over the whole thing though he was sure the man hadn't regretted it in the moment. He certainly loved to show off. L was glad he decided to stay in the flat though even if it meant L had to deal with his sulking. It was better than being alone. He also liked to think the man did it for his sake.

The sulking didn't last long really as Sherlock got enveloped in his thoughts once again. L didn't mind. He settled in Sherlock's chair and opened a book on chemistry, paying little mind to the detective stretched out on the couch.

The ringing of Sherlock's cell phone a few hours later broke whatever peace they had managed to find. It somehow managed to sound urgent all on its own and brought reality crashing back on them, though he was sure it never really left. L couldn't hear what John was saying but he sat at attention when Sherlock silently hung up and rose from the couch. He put the book down to watch as the detective moved to the kitchen. Sherlock went about putting the kettle on then walked to his room. L stood up and continued to watch, perplexed.

It wasn't until the detective returned to the kettle with a jacket on instead of his dressing gown that he understood. L was sure he had never been paler before in his life than he was in that moment. Sherlock didn't say anything but L got the message. He wanted to listen and run up to the bedroom right then. He stayed firmly in place though. Sherlock wasn't running. He was going to face it head on. L didn't want to let him face it alone. He trusted Sherlock to handle himself but he wasn't going to leave him to face the devil alone no matter how foolhardy it was of him. He couldn't do much but maybe he could be some form of distraction or deterrent if needed.

He swallowed around the lump in his throat and decisively strode over to stand in the kitchen doorway. He couldn't really sit anywhere yet until he knew which area would be the safest and furthest from the danger. Sherlock watched him with a notably surprised look. L crossed his arms to further show his resolve. Sherlock frowned, showing some reluctance. There apparently wasn't the time to argue or debate as Sherlock glanced at the clock then hurried to pick up his violin.

L barely held in his protest as Sherlock turned his back to the doorway as he started playing. It wasn't a completely vulnerable position since the door was closed and they knew danger was coming but it still put L on edge. Sherlock continued to play and it was only because they were listening for it that they heard the slight creak from the stairwell. Sherlock paused, just to add to the suspense and drama of the moment L was sure. The soothing sounds of the violin soon returned but it wasn't at all soothing this time around.

L kept himself still and quiet as he saw the door slowly open. He couldn't see the man from where he was standing but he could feel the shift in the air that signaled his presence. Sherlock must have felt it too as he stopped playing entirely. L hated how he didn't turn when he talked.

"Most people knock. But then you're not most people, I suppose." He gestured with the bow towards the waiting tea set, back still turned. "Kettle's just boiled."

L retreated further into the kitchen when he finally saw Moriarty as he stepped into the room. Thankfully, the movement was so slight and the man's attention was solely on Sherlock so he hadn't noticed him yet. L wasn't sure he had prepared himself enough for the man's gaze yet. He wasn't going to back down though. Following John's example, L cooled his expression and stood as straight as he could, even though it felt a bit strange given his usual slight hunch.

He watched with laser focus as Moriarty picked an apple from the bowl on the coffee table. He was surprised the man didn't seem to feel it. Moriarty looked around the room as he tossed and caught the apple.

"May I?" He finally spoke, looking towards the seats. Sherlock understood even with his back to the man. He did turn to respond however.

"Please."

Moriarty ignored the gesture towards John's chair and instead took Sherlock's. Sherlock frowned at that and then he tensed. L stood his ground as those evil eyes finally found him. There was a silent moment before a slow, chilling grin spread across Moriarty's face.

"Well…hello again."

L was proud of his lack of reaction and ability to meet those eyes head on. Sherlock stood still, watching. It was a mistake. His inaction was just as much as a confession of fear and concern as any words. Moriarty didn't comment on it, his focus was still on L. The grin and stare didn't falter as he pulled out a small penknife. L's heart pounded but he kept his cool as the man started to cut into the apple, eyes locked on him.

"I have to say, Sherlock…I wasn't expecting us to have an audience." That spurred Sherlock into action. He moved to retrieve the tea he had made, forcing himself to turn his back once again. L was sure his attention was hundred percent on them however.

"Very loyal, isn't he?" The grin somehow stretched further. He finally turned his eyes on Sherlock.

"You really should keep Johnny Boy away from him. He's turning the boy foolish." Sherlock didn't react to the insult though he must have wanted to.

"I'm sure you didn't come here to discuss the boy." Moriarty just smirked at Sherlock's attempt at distancing himself. It was much too late for that. They both knew "the boy" mattered. Thankfully, it seemed L was just a temporary distraction.

"No, I didn't." Moriarty leaned back in the chair, looking down at the apple as he continued carving it up. It was only a moment before his eyes were locked on Sherlock. "I wanted to see how pleased you are."

"You mean with the verdict?" Naturally they were on the same wavelength. Sherlock offered a cup as if this was a casual get together. Moriarty paused in his carving to take it. Now his attention truly was on Sherlock only. His voice turned soft and his eyes gleamed as he looked up at Sherlock with a smile

"With me…back on the streets." He sounded almost intoxicated. It was more than disturbing to realize that if that was the case, it was from Sherlock's presence and the thoughts of all he could do with him; the game he could play.

"Every fairytale needs a good old-fashioned villain."

Sherlock was unfazed and didn't respond. He continued adding milk to his own cup. Moriarty continued, undeterred.

"You need me, or you're nothing. Because we're just alike, you and I." The grin fell away, its absence not any more reassuring. "Except you're boring."

The disappointment he showed at that, whether genuine or not, was clearly not enough to stop his interest in Sherlock. The man wouldn't be there if it were.

"You're on the side of the angels."

Sherlock paused at that for a split second but didn't comment. Instead, he brought up how Moriarty had gotten to the jury. That was the only way he could have won the trial. Predictable really but unfortunately unavoidable apparently.

"Every person has their pressure point; someone that they want to protect from harm."

That sentence was all the more effective with L in the room. L was sure he would have still said it even if he weren't and he was sure it would have still struck a chord in Sherlock even with his unyielding composure. Sherlock finally took a seat with a cup in hand. He didn't fight the obvious shift of subject.

"So how're you going to do it…" He trailed off as he blew on his tea. "…burn me?" Moriarty was delighted at the question. He spoke softly again but L could still hear him and that was no doubt intentional.

"Oh, that's the problem. The final problem. Have you worked out what it is yet? What's the final problem?"

It was truly jarring to hear such a conversation while the two calmly sipped at tea as if it was simply about the weather.

"I did tell you...but did you listen?"

There was that sing-song tone that sometimes came uninvited into L's dreams, brutally twisting them into nightmares. The clink of the teacup hitting the saucer brought L from his thoughts. He watched as Moriarty started drumming his fingers on his knee. The pattern was too precise and deliberate to be meaningless. Just what the meaning was escaped him but Sherlock probably wouldn't have any trouble figuring it out.

There was a sudden, lingering look his way. He was easily visible right over Sherlock's shoulder; there was no real need for Moriarty to focus on him in order to see him. There was no question that it was done purely to get to Sherlock.

"Have you told your little friends yet why I broke into all those places and never took anything?"

L listened with rapt attention as Sherlock went on to explain the whole thing. It wasn't that hard to understand really. There wasn't anything Moriarty was trying to obtain by breaking into all those places. Such things wouldn't hold any interest for him. He showed the world though that he could get them. No doubt many would want this so called "code" that could open any lock.

"I just like to watch them all competing. "Daddy loves me the best!" Aren't ordinary people adorable? Well, you know; you've got John. I should get myself a live-in one. It'd be so funny."

L certainly hoped he didn't. No person deserved such a fate. Not even the worst of criminals. No one was worse than the man calmly sitting in Sherlock's chair.

"Why are you doing all of this? You don't want money or power. Not really."

Moriarty almost seemed to ignore him as he continued digging into the apple with the blade but he didn't interrupt so L was sure he was listening to every breath Sherlock took.

"What is it all for?"

"It's gonna start very soon, Sherlock. The fall."

L couldn't help but shudder at the way the man said the word. It was almost a caress with how softly it left his lips, as if it was the most wonderful thing in the world. The sensation lingered even as he almost mockingly imitated a fall with a whistle.

"But don't be scared. Falling's just like flying, except there's a more permanent destination."

The room was dead silent, broken only by the makeshift thud sound he made. Sherlock said nothing at first but he probably wasn't as unaffected as he made himself appear. He stood up and buttoned his jacket, signaling the end of the meeting.

"Never liked riddles."

Moriarty followed his lead, eyes locked with Sherlock as he stood.

"Learn to. Because I owe you a fall, Sherlock. I...owe...you."

He lingered a moment, making sure Sherlock took in those words. He slowly moved past Sherlock, smoothly picking up another apple along the way. He meet L's gaze as he took a fierce bite. L stood his ground when he smirked his way. However, he did jump before he instinctively caught the apple lobbed his way. He looked down at it then looked up and the man was already walking through the door.

L met Sherlock's gaze as the man watched the interaction over his shoulder. Neither relaxed until they heard the front door close. Sherlock moved then. L couldn't move just yet but he followed the man with his eyes as he wandered over to the apple left on the arm of the chair. The knife was still stuck in it. Sherlock used the handle to pick the apple up. L caught a glimpse of the carved writing. It couldn't really be called that but it still delivered a clear message.

I O U

Moriarty's last words came to mind instantly. The man really wanted to make sure Sherlock remembered them. L didn't want to think about what the man had planned for Sherlock but he knew it wouldn't be long before they found out. He was sure there was no way they wouldn't be stumbling right into it.

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Despite the uproar and chaos that came with the trial, nothing really happened for the next two months or so. That didn't lessen the dread that seemed to follow them like circling vultures. Moriarty had disappeared again but they knew it wasn't the end. L wondered if it ever would be over and just what it would mean for them if it were. What would it take to end the whole thing?

Since the press and everyone else was more than aware of Sherlock at that point, there didn't seem to be any more reason to turn down big cases. One such case was a kidnapping of the ambassador to the United States' two children. Lestrade came over to give Sherlock the details in person. He also, unfortunately, brought Donovan with him.

There were many things L hated about her. Her blatant, verbal disdain and disrespect of Sherlock that she always expressed around John to get him to leave him was the biggest thing. There was also her overall attitude and even her voice grated on his ears. He especially hated how she acted every time she saw him. The exaggerated surprise over his continued survival and decision to stay where he was really annoyed him.

"I gotta say, freak. I thought you would have killed him ages ago. Maybe during one of your experiments or something."

"I would have thought you'd have tired of Anderson's no doubt lacking performance. Well you obviously can't get anything better so I suppose you can be forgiven."

This was the only thing he liked about Donovan being in the same room as them. Watching Sherlock cut her down with quick words and insults was always a treat, almost as good as Mrs. Hudson's strawberry shortcake. Donovan's returning glare was quite the sight but she didn't snap back in the way L thought she would. The topic of him seemed to be her go-to today.

"He can't really be as smart as you claim if he's still here."

Unsurprisingly, she threw in another jab at Sherlock. What was a surprise was Sherlock's reaction to it. This time it was Donovan that was subjected to a heated glare. It was restrained to some degree as it was still Sherlock but it was still unexpected for it to have upset him so much. Lestrade stepped in before Sherlock could say anything but L understood that the indignation wasn't because of the insult to Sherlock but to him. L smiled to himself, feeling warm and fuzzy in the chest.

It was then that John stepped into the room.

"Sherlock, something weird..." He trailed off when he saw everyone. L wondered what he was going to say but the thought was quickly forgotten as John was briefed on the kidnapping case.

The two children were at a boarding school in Surrey when they were kidnapped. There were only a few children still at the school as the rest had gone home. The two stayed since their father was in Washington. Sherlock was on the move the second they were done explaining. He was silent and seemed to be in a hurry. L didn't need to ask whether he shared his feeling on the whole thing. It was such a big case and well…it was about time for Moriarty to make his reappearance.

The first thing they did when they arrived at the boarding school was question the house mistress. Question was putting it lightly. The poor woman was so distraught that she wasn't really answering questions sufficiently. Sherlock wasn't deterred however.

"Miss Mackenzie, you're in charge of pupil welfare, yet you left this place wide open last night. What are you: an idiot, a drunk or a criminal?" She flinched at his angry tone and gasped when he yanked the blanket from her shoulders.

"Now quickly, tell me!"

"All the doors and windows were properly bolted. No one, not even me, went into their room last night. You have to believe me!" The woman burst out, still in tears. Sherlock's demeanor instantly changed and he smiled reassuringly as he gently held her shoulders.

"I do. I just wanted you to speak quickly." He then turned and strode away. He called out as he passed some officers, "Miss Mackenzie will need to breathe into a bag now."

L couldn't help but shake his head as the woman started sobbing. The method was unnecessarily rough but certainly effective. John had a similar mixed expression though it did lean more towards disapproval. They were both familiar with Sherlock's methods but he still managed to surprise them at times.

They moved into the dormitories to investigate the rooms where the children were. There were apparently no signs of a break-in but the children couldn't have disappeared on their own. Sherlock looked about the sister's room and eventually found a brown envelope with a wax seal in her trunk. The seal was already broken and inside was a large hardback book of Grimm's Fairy Tales. Certainly not the type of reading one would want such a young child to read. L doubted it was actually hers. Why was it planted there then? He wouldn't be able to figure it out without more information.

They then moved on to the brother's room. The bed had a clear view of the door and the window on the door would have been the only source of light during the night, creating silhouettes of anyone that passed.

"He'd recognize every shape, every outline, the silhouette of everyone who came to the door. So someone approaches the door who he doesn't recognize, an intruder. Maybe he can even see the outline of a weapon." Sherlock went behind the door to demonstrate, showing how clear the outline would have been.

"What would he do in the precious few seconds before they came into the room? How would he use them if not to cry out?"

The typical reaction of a young child would be to cry out, wouldn't it? This boy was different apparently. L knew if it had been him and there was no chance he could escape or fight he would…

"Leave a sign." He said aloud, drawing everyone's attention. "Leave a sign or some way for others to find him."

They all stared a moment before Sherlock nodded.

"Yes, exactly. Just look at all the spy books he reads."

He gestured to them but he was already moving on to the next thing. It was a bit bizarre to watch the man start sniffing about the room but it was just like Sherlock to use the means others would not. It seemed to be the right move as his nose led him right to an almost empty glass bottle of linseed oil under the bed. They darkened the room as much as they could as Sherlock used the ultraviolet light confiscated from Anderson to reveal a message written on the wall beside the bed.

The cry for help, written in a young boy's panicked, messy scrawl was what really made it all real to L. This wasn't a puzzle to solve or a case far in the past with the ending already determined. There were two children out there in trouble and they might not make it. L wasn't just a bystander. He might not be the only one involved but the case did rest on his shoulders. He had the ability to help. Had the ability to save those children. Thankfully, Sherlock and John were right there with him, carrying that same burden.

There was more than just a message. There was also a trail. The intruder had unknowingly stepped into the oil so they were able to follow his footsteps and the boy's into the hallway. The trail didn't go far but, as Sherlock loved showing, there was so much more to it than others saw.

"His shoe size, his height, his gait, his walking pace." Sherlock listed off to Anderson, showing off while still giving the information needed for the case. It was one of his specialties really.

Sherlock ignored the officers moving around him and scrapped off some of the wood from the man's footprint. He carefully put it in a small Petri dish. L wasn't even surprised that he was carrying some around. There was probably much to be found from that once it was analyzed properly, which probably meant they would be heading to Barts soon.

Sure enough, they climbed into a cab and headed right for the hospital. Poor Molly got practically kidnapped in order to help them. Sherlock grabbed her right when she was on her way out and ignored her protests. He even brought of Moriarty in one of the worst ways.

"Need your help. It's one of your old boyfriends. We're trying to track him down. He's been a bit naughty!"

Both Molly and John stopped at that. It took L a moment to understand why. Molly could be excused, of course, but John shouldn't have been so shocked. L didn't go into the case knowing for sure that Moriarty was involved but it felt like something he would do. It is just the case Sherlock would be brought on and what better way to continue their game than to make a case for Sherlock to solve. That's what he did the first time after all. The two soon shook off the shock.

"Er, Jim actually wasn't even my boyfriend. We went out three times. I ended it."

"Yes, and then he stole the Crown Jewels, broke into the Bank of England and organized a prison break at Pentonville. For the sake of law and order, I suggest you avoid all future attempts at a relationship, Molly."

Thankfully, she was too bewildered by the whole thing to take that last comment badly. The man really needed to learn how to be tactful with friends at least.

Sherlock got right to work analyzing the pieces of wood he had gathered and Molly helped him. It took some time but they learned a great deal thanks to the oil working as a preservative. Analyzing it they found there were five items that had been stuck to the kidnapper's shoe. Chalk, asphalt, brick dust, vegetation and something that they weren't able to identify at first.

While Sherlock and Molly were working, L decided to keep John company. They didn't really talk or anything. Idle, meaningless conversation wasn't really L's forte and John was clearly dwelling on the case if the tenseness of his shoulders was any indication. The knowledge that Moriarty was behind the whole thing didn't help with his worrying. He tried to help through his worry, going over the papers about the items analyzed. L stepped close, not quite in his personal space but near enough for him to sense him. John looked down at him. L just stared back. He knew the doctor would understand him well enough.

John's lips quirked up and his face softened. He passed one of the papers to L then grabbed another for himself. The silent promise of being there if needed was apparently enough. A sudden movement on the other side of the room distracted them.

"She seemed to be in a hurry." John said, watching Molly leave the room. "Everything alright?" He called to Sherlock. Sherlock didn't respond at first, he just stared after her with a lost expression.

"…Yes."

Sherlock went back to work, ignoring John's concerned look. John moved on from the papers and instead looked at the police photographs of the dormitories. One of them made him pause.

"Sherlock." He called out as he moved towards where he left his jacket. Sherlock didn't look up but he hummed to let him know he was listening.

"This envelope that was in her trunk. There's another one." That got Sherlock to look up.

"What?"

"On our doorstep. Found it today." He pulled said envelope from his jacket pocket. That must have been what he was going to tell Sherlock before when Lestrade and Donovan were in the flat. John joined Sherlock and handed it to him.

"It has the exact same seal too."

Sherlock reached into the envelope and took out some brown dust. He recognized it instantly.

"Breadcrumbs."

"Like in the Grimm Fairy Tale Hansel and Gretel." L said, coming to take a closer look.

"Yes. Two children led into the forest by a wicked father follow a little trail of breadcrumbs."

"What sort of kidnapper leaves clues?" John asked.

"The sort that likes to boast; the sort that thinks it's all a game."

"Or the kind that wants to be found." L added.

He didn't like at all where this was going. Sherlock was right about Moriarty and his games but to give so much away…it made it feel like they shouldn't win; that they shouldn't find the children. Wouldn't that be playing right into Moriarty hands?

Sherlock frowned.

"L-"

"I'm not saying to abandon them." He cut him off. "It just…feels so much more dangerous this time. This game of his…there's so much more this time. I'm not sure what but I don't think we should just rush in. There has to be some way we can save them without things going his way. Right?"

Sherlock's silence wasn't reassuring.

"Sherlock…" John tried to join in but he was lost on what to say. Sherlock slipped the breadcrumbs back into the envelope then carefully placed it down. He spun in his seat to face L. He didn't reach out or anything but his proximity and stare was enough to garner L's full attention.

"L, understand that I will do what I have to. Moriarty won't win. I promise you that."

This wasn't his usual boast of greatness or arrogant claim about his inability to be wrong. The seriousness and conviction in his voice washed over L. The dread and worry that he carried since the reemergence of Moriarty finally eased. They didn't fade completely but L was sure that was his instincts working to keep them alive. Those were good. Sherlock told him to follow them. He could trust them and rely on them. That was all he knew once but now he also had to rely on Sherlock. He had to trust him. Him and John. There was no question there.

"Alright."

Sherlock smiled slightly, gaze as soft as he let it be. He nodded then turned back to his work.

"The fifth substance is part of the tale I'm sure…"

He continued on but L was distracted a moment when he felt hands on his shoulders. He didn't need to look. He let the strength and reassurance behind the touch as well as the warmth soothe him.

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It took Sherlock a second or few more to identity the last substance. PGPR, which is used in making chocolate. So they were now looking for a location where all those substances could be found. They were urged on by a message faxed to Lestrade.

HURRY UP THEY'RE DYING!

Sherlock made use of his homeless network to find potential locations. He claimed they were faster than the police and he was soon proved right as always. He soon received several text messages with pictures of old abandoned factories and buildings. One was right in the area they were looking for. They knew where the children were.

It was a quick rescue. The kidnapper was nowhere in sight but the children were there. The boy had been heavily poisoned while the sister was much better off but still poisoned. They were left there with nothing to eat except chocolate covered in wrappers laced with mercury. They had essentially put the children in control of their own death.

"The hungrier they got, the more they ate...the faster they died." Thankfully, L wasn't there to hear Sherlock marvel slightly over the method but John certainly didn't approve.

The boy was in intensive care so was unable to answer questions but the sister was. Lestrade and Donovan went first while Sherlock, John and L waited outside the room. Sherlock wasn't taking the wait well as usual. L watched him pace back and forth. At least he didn't have Lestrade there to hound and complain to.

"Now, remember, she's in shock and she's just seven years old, so anything you can do to..." Lestrade said when it was their turn.

"...Not be myself." Sherlock finished for him.

"Yeah. Might be helpful." Lestrade agreed with a shrug.

Sherlock rolled his eyes at John before leading the way into the room. L was the last one in and he was soon almost thrown to the ground when Lestrade shoved Sherlock out. It was so sudden and jarring that the screaming didn't register at first. The girl was screaming her head off and she had been relatively fine until the moment she saw Sherlock.

The dread that had calmed earlier returned tenfold. So that's what Moriarty's plan was. The others seemed unaware of it but Sherlock's silent contemplation showed he knew. L stared at him, unable to really do anything else right then.

"Well, don't let it get to you. I always feel like screaming when you walk into a room! In fact, so do most people."

Lestrade tried to lighten the mood but L wondered if Sherlock even heard him. The man just stared intensely out the window. Was there even something there to hold his attention or was it all in his mind?

They soon left. L hated the look Donovan had glued to Sherlock as she stayed behind. John got them a cab outside.

"This is my cab. You get the next one." Sherlock finally spoke up, sliding into the seat.

"Why?" John asked, bewildered.

"You might talk."

It was meant to rile John up and it did slightly but L was more concerned than anything. It wasn't long before the anger set in though and it wasn't towards Sherlock. L left while John was mumbling to himself as he tried to get another cab.

L burst back into Lestrade's office, startling the man, Donovan and Anderson, though thankfully not enough to draw any guns. Lestrade in particular was taken aback by the incensed look on the boy's face.

"I know what you're thinking." He spat at them. "Sherlock did not kidnap those children."

"She screamed bloody murder the moment she saw him." Donovan snapped back.

"So? That doesn't mean he did it. Moriarty knows what Sherlock looks like, maybe in even more detail than Sherlock does. He could easily find someone that looks as close to Sherlock as possible or make someone look the same. He wants to discredit him; he wants to get idiots like you to believe that it was all fake," he continued on, noticing how he was sounding just like Sherlock but dismissing it.

"That Sherlock isn't actually that smart compared to you and hasn't been doing your jobs better. If you would just think, just think for a god damn second."

"Do you think if Sherlock had done it that he'd allow himself to be recognized by the girl, do you?"

"And don't say it's all part of the plan to make you think he's innocent!" He snapped when Donovan opened her mouth.

He turned to Lestrade.

"You've known him for five years or so, maybe not as well as I or John do but you know that his reaction to the girl screaming was genuine."

The man said nothing; he just sat there contemplating.

"I know what it's like." L started again, voice pained rather than angry now. "To be called a freak, to be called a fake. And now you're calling him a criminal."

"Please Lestrade. He has so few people he trusts. Don't betray him now."

"What would you have me do then?"

"I…"

What could he do? If Sherlock was unable to stop Moriarty's plans then how could he? Damn it he wanted to try though. He didn't want to stand by and watch it all play out, especially since it felt like there was a chance Moriarty was going to come out on top. It felt like whatever he could do wouldn't be enough. It would still end the way Moriarty wanted it to. The helplessness and frustration was almost too much. He clenched his fists till they were whiter than his usual pale and ignored the wetness in his eyes.

"I don't know."

The office fell into a heavy silence. There seemed no way out of it…until there was.

"There you are!" John called, running into the room.

L had a moment of guilt when he saw how relieved the doctor was. He must have thought something happened to him. Moriarty had kidnapped him once before. John saw L's expression but L couldn't get himself to explain right then. All the fight had left him. It seemed no one else was going to either. That was surprising. He would have though that Donovan and Anderson would have jumped at the chance to throw the accusations at John, rubbing it in his face. Lestrade seemed to be lost in his own thoughts so there would be no help there. John didn't ask.

"Come on."

John gently guided L from the room. L could feel Donovan and Anderson's triumphant looks. He knew there was no stopping them. Even if Lestrade didn't listen, there were others they could go to, many willing to soil Sherlock's name.

There was a cab waiting for them outside. L stayed silent as he slid in. John was staring at him. L took a deep sigh, composing himself. John deserved an explanation and a warning of what was to come.

"Moriarty is planning to discredit Sherlock. Donovan and Anderson are doing just as he wants and are trying to get Sherlock arrested for kidnapping those children."

"What? That's ridiculous! Sherlock would never do such a thing."

"They already think so little of him so it's easy for Moriarty to manipulate them." He sighed.

"I hate to say it but they actually have a convincing case, especially if they disregard the information Sherlock gave them. He knew how to find all the clues. He knew where they were. The girl screamed when she saw him. It's easier for them to believe that instead of Sherlock just being that clever."

John was speechless but not from nothing to say. His jaw was tense and his fists were clenched tight. It was good he hadn't told him when they were still in the office. John might have gotten arrested for assaulting some police officers.

John wasn't allowed to stew long. He was suddenly leaping from the cab as it stopped abruptly. L followed instinctively. Once he was out he saw what John had. Sherlock was standing in the street and there was a man on the ground next to him. The streetlights lit him up enough for L to see the gathering pool of blood. It clearly hadn't been Sherlock who had shot him. All the anger from earlier evaporated.

"Sherlock!" John yelled, worried.

He hurried over to him, already looking for any injuries. L knew he would handle Sherlock so he focused on looking around, seeing if there was anyone suspicious. The gunshots had to have come from somewhere. However, no one stood out and there were no further gunshots. An ambulance came soon after to take care of the body. Surprisingly, John recognized the man.

"It's him. Sulejmani. Mycroft showed me his file. He's a big Albanian gangster lives two doors down from us."

Well that was concerning. L went to ask more about that but Sherlock spoke up as if he hadn't heard John.

"He died because I shook his hand. He saved my life but he couldn't touch me. Why?"

Sherlock stormed off before they could even react. John explained what Mycroft had told him on the way back to the flat.

"Four assassins living right on our doorstep. They didn't come here to kill me; they have to keep me alive. I've got something that all of them want, but if one of them approaches me…"

"...The others kill them before they can get it." John finished. He was looking out the flat window, still on high alert. "So what have you got that's so important?"

Sherlock seemingly ignored him as he ran a finger along the table. He examined his finger before getting up and leaving the room. Poor Mrs. Hudson was woken up and brought up to the flat while Sherlock looked about the room. He asked her what she had cleaned lately. It was easy to see what he was all in a tizzy about. Four assassins nearby and, according to Sherlock, dust had been misplaced. Mycroft would naturally have placed cameras in the flat a long time ago if Sherlock hadn't gotten rid of them by now but he wouldn't have been involved in any recent placement of cameras.

The bell rang while this was going on and John went to answer it. L had a feeling he knew who it was. Thankfully, he was alone so they still had some time. Sherlock turned Lestrade down as he removed the camera from one of the bookcases before he could even speak.

"But you haven't heard the question!"

"You want to take me to the station. Just saving you the trouble of asking."

Lestrade didn't even wonder how Sherlock had predicted he would. L showed before that it was possible.

"Who was it? Donovan? I bet it was Donovan. Am I somehow responsible for-"

"You can stop. I already know that this is that bastard's doing." Lestrade cut him off. Sherlock actually paused, surprised. Lestrade sighed then gave L an apologetic look before asking once more.

"Will you come?"

Sherlock looked between the two. So L had gone and spoken in his defense. Pointless really. Still, it was…nice that he had done so for him. Sherlock felt the tension slip from his shoulders as warmth bloomed in his chest. It didn't make his response any less unyielding however.

"No."

Lestrade didn't push. He left with a slump to his shoulders. John watched him go. He looked like he was about to stop him but didn't. Sherlock went right back to what he was doing with the camera but John wasn't about the let what happened go.

"Should have gone with him. People will think-"

"I don't care what people think." Sherlock sternly cut him off.

"Sherlock, I don't want the world believing you're...a fraud." There was a pause at the end as if he couldn't bear saying it. L understood how he felt.

"You're worried they're right."

"No." He said, outraged at the suggestion.

"That's why you're so upset." Sherlock's tone started rising to match his with the hurt of betrayal underneath. "You're afraid that you've been taken in as-"

"I believe in you, Sherlock!" Sherlock froze at that. John seemed taken aback for a moment as well but continued nonetheless.

"Just like I believe in L. You both are some of the most amazing people I've ever met. I don't believe for a second that you lied to me. That you made it all up. That you tricked me."

There was a long pause as Sherlock slowly took in his words. John's upset faded and tenderness took its place.

"I told you before, Sherlock. You're my friend. I don't want anyone to think the worst of you. That's why I'm upset."

Sherlock simply nodded as he slowly sat back down. He returned to his fiddling with the camera after a moment. L smiled. His expression might have been blank but there was happiness shining in his eyes.

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Lestrade did come back but this time it was with a warrant for Sherlock's arrest. L was right. Donovan and Anderson had gone to someone else. In fact, they had gone right to the chief superintendent. Lestrade was sure to get in some serious trouble for allowing Sherlock to be allowed in so many cases. That was the least of L's concerns right then. Sherlock allowed the officers to cuff him and followed without a word. John was having none of it but there wasn't anything he could do.

It was all the worse when Donovan started gloating. The doctor was already reaching his limit so it was no surprise what happened when the superintendent came into the flat.

"Looked a bit of a weirdo, if you ask me. Often are, these vigilante types."

L saw it coming of course and it looked Donovan did as well. L didn't stop him and there was no way Donovan could have. John soon joined Sherlock while the superintendent nursed his bleeding nose. L smirked from the window, relishing the sight. The man deserved it.

He stayed at the window, watching. He knew Sherlock wouldn't be cooperating for much longer. It wasn't long before Sherlock and John made a run for it, chained together. Just how they went about it was quite fun to watch. Lestrade looked both miffed and relieved. He was slow to chase after them too. The inspector glanced at him in the window and gave a subtle shrug and grin. L smiled, stepping away from the window.

"How dreadful." Mrs. Hudson said, looking spooked still. "Those poor boys."

"They will be fine, Mrs. Hudson." L reassured her. "All we can do now is get some rest and wait for them to sort it all out."

"Yes. Yes. Will you be alright by yourself, dearie?"

Mrs. Hudson retreated to her room after L assured her he'd be fine. He had said there was nothing they could do but L wasn't really keen on just waiting.

He passed the coffee table and spotted the newspapers John hadn't managed to get to today. One stood out. L picked it up and read the headline that had caught his attention. He had to wonder why John hadn't noticed it. Unless he had but then why hadn't he said anything? He would have had a reaction no doubt and they would have noticed it. Unless he saw it somewhere else before. It wasn't important really. The article added some insight into the whole mess Sherlock and John were in. Well, L knew just what he was going to do in the meantime.

L pulled out his phone. It was given to him by Mycroft and he always had it on him for safety purposes. He had never really used it before but there was little choice now. He sent a quick message then went to get his coat and scarf. It wouldn't be a long wait after all. He slipped into the car when it pulled up, nodding to the woman beside him. It was a bit of a drive but it wasn't like L had anywhere else he had to be.

There was a man waiting to guide him when they pulled up. L looked about at the men reading even at the late hour. He could feel the unnatural silence as if it were a physical presence weighing on his shoulders. A sigh would feel like a bolt of lightening, sudden and jarring. The silence seemed so easy to break and yet his throat suddenly felt tight as if the very air was trying to stop him from breaking it. He didn't fight the feeling, as it seemed to be the last thing he should do. It helped that he wasn't much of a talker. The man led him into a room in the back of the building. Even the door was silent, hinges not squeaking in the slightest.

Mycroft was waiting for him in an armchair. L scowled when he saw what he was reading. The man waited till the door closed once more before addressing him.

"I admit I wasn't expecting you to seek me out. Especially, not alone. I am assuming it is urgent."

"Not exactly. Too late now but I wanted to ask you why you gave Moriarty all that information about Sherlock."

"I'd ask you why you came to that conclusion but we both know you wouldn't be here unless you were certain."

The man neatly folded the paper and put it down on the table to give his full attention. L wouldn't deny that he was furious over the whole thing but the logical side of him knew there had to be a reason. He decided to focus on that.

"What are you planning?" Mycroft lifted a brow. "No matter what the situation, I'm sure you wouldn't sell Sherlock out."

"You believe I'd put Sherlock over all that Moriarty could offer me?"

"Offer you? He wouldn't give you anything unless he'd turn out on top in the end. And yes I do. You don't hide your concern for him as well as you think. You are right to worry. Sherlock certainly gets himself into some serious situations."

"I'm afraid it's in his nature." Mycroft agreed with a sigh. There was no point in denying any of it. Not with L.

"You had to have know it would turn out like this. Why do it then? How do you plan to make it right?"

"And you are certain I will." It was a statement, not a question.

"Is Sherlock aware of the plan? Not from the start I'm sure. But now?"

Mycroft didn't answer.

"Is my knowing too much of a risk? Will it ruin the final stages?"

"You really are exceptionally bright."

"Is there a risk of it going wrong even with my not knowing?"

"There is a risk to everything."

"Even with the two brightest minds in the world behind it?"

"Flattering but we are not perfect beings."

He knew just how Sherlock would have responded to that but resisted. His lips still quirked up though. Mycroft frowned disapprovingly. He wasn't surprised the man could tell what he was thinking.

"There is nothing that you can do." He said, keeping his frown. "Though you so desperately want to." L didn't deny it. His presence there was proof enough.

"So I just have to watch and hope it all goes well after all?" L sighed.

"You are full of potential but you must not rush in foolishly. Moriarty is too much for you. Now is not your time."

"Even so, I'm not happy to just accept that."

"But you will…you have no choice. You are clever. You know there is too much risk if you try and intervene now. Shame for you to lose Sherlock and John because of your own stubbornness and foolhardy." L smirked, teasing.

"It works for Sherlock." Mycroft sighed.

"Well…let's not try and continue that bad habit, shall we?"

The door opened behind them. The footsteps were what alerted L to that fact with how silent the door was. He was pleased to see John. The doctor had realized just where Moriarty got his information as well. John was surprised to see him though.

"A bit slow Dr. Watson. The boy made it here first and has shared his piece." A scowl quickly took over the surprise.

"Doesn't mean I can't do the same." John walked in, quiet fury stewing beneath the surface.

It seemed Mycroft was going to get a talking to after all. L smirked and moved towards the door to give them some privacy. He gave Mycroft a cheeky little wave before closing it. The man's scowl only made him laugh.

John made it quick. The sun was starting to come out now. L didn't feel the missed sleep in the slightest but John did look worn out. It could have also been from the stress and all he had gone through. The doctor didn't ask why L was there or express disapproval over L moving about by himself. He couldn't have been safer than with Mycroft and his men.

"Should go meet up with Sherlock." John said as he got them a cab.

"So we are going to Barts?" L asked. John paused. Clearly, the doctor didn't know where the detective was.

"I suppose. He didn't tell me where he was going."

"He's at Barts." L was certain of that.

"Okay then."

Sherlock was at Barts. The man was busy sitting on the floor, bouncing a rubber ball. The intensity of his expression showed the storm brewing in his head. It took him a second or two for him to notice them. He grinned when he spotted L, not surprised in the least that he managed to find them. The grin didn't last long and it seemed weighed down by something. L was sure it was whatever plan he and Mycroft had made.

"The computer code is key to this. If we find it, we can use it and beat Moriarty at his own game." Sherlock said, holding the ball instead of bouncing it. He stood up and rested his hands on the lab counter.

"Somewhere in 221B, somewhere on the day of the verdict he left it hidden."

"He didn't touch anything beyond the apples." L said, joining in.

"Did he write anything down?" John asked.

"No." Sherlock started drumming his fingers on the counter as he contemplated. L stared for a moment then it clicked.

"That's it!" Sherlock looked to him then followed his gaze to his own fingers.

"The drumming." He muttered to himself. "The pattern." He smiled.

"Good job." L grinned at the praise.

Sherlock took out his phone. He made sure the others couldn't see the screen before typing. He sent the message then sat on a stool. It was some time later and L started to wonder what it was that Sherlock had sent. If was the code to Mycroft then wouldn't the case be solved? Wouldn't they be safe to return to Baker Street? Nothing had happened or changed. They were still waiting in the lab. Perhaps they were waiting for Mycroft to capture Moriarty. That made sense. It didn't make the waiting any easier. The waiting was stopped but it wasn't by what L was expecting.

"Mrs. Hudson. She's been shot." John relayed the phone call he just got, panicked and frantic.

The man rushed for the door. L jumped to his feet to follow but Sherlock didn't move. They both paused at that. It was beyond bizarre. Sherlock loved Mrs. Hudson even if he wouldn't admit it. The man had nearly killed that agent that had harmed Mrs. Hudson back during the Irene Adler case.

"You go. I'm busy." He dismissed them with no emotion whatsoever.

"You machine." John snarled under his breath but still loud enough for Sherlock to hear.

It was a heat of the moment thing. L knew John didn't really think that. He also was sure Sherlock didn't really mean any of it either. It just didn't fit. Didn't matter what he thought. John grabbed his hand and pulled him along as he stormed from the room. L didn't fight the doctor's strong, agitated grip. L got one last look at Sherlock before the door swung shut. The man didn't look at them. He kept his eyes firmly staring ahead.

However, Sherlock couldn't keep his gaze away once the door was closed. He stared after them as he sat in silence, waiting. It was only a few minutes before his phone chimed. He calmly pulled out the phone and read the message. He rose from his chair and left the room. It was time to end it.

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Sherlock opened the door to the roof, knowing just who was waiting for him there. The Bee Gees song "Stayin' Alive" filled what would have been a heavy silence. The heaviness and tension was still palpable though. There was probably nothing that could overpower them. Sherlock calmly approached where Moriarty was sitting on the ledge.

"Here we are at last. You and me, Sherlock, and our problem. The final problem."

Sherlock let him talk. Let him give his big speech. Let him think he had won. He didn't need to hear any of it. He knew where this was going. They both did.

"Now I've got to go back to playing with the ordinary people. And it turns out you're ordinary just like all of them."

Sherlock ignored the comment. He drummed his fingers against his other hand as he paced. The pattern caught the other's attention.

"Good. You got that."

Sherlock explained the code and Moriarty smiled but then buried his head in his hands.

"This is too easy. There is no key, DOOFUS!" Sherlock didn't flinch at the yell but he did allow confusion to show.

"You don't really think a couple of lines of computer code are gonna crash the world around our ears? I'm disappointed."

Moriarty explained, boasting and gloating. It was simple. Nothing grand or complex. Just a couple of willing participants to unlock the doors and let out the prisoners. No all powerful key. Nothing. Disappointing perhaps but it was enough to fool Sherlock Holmes.

"I knew you'd fall for it. That's your weakness. You always want everything to be clever." He didn't give Sherlock time to respond. He just plowed ahead, jumping straight to the end.

"Now, shall we finish the game? One final act. Glad you chose a tall building. Nice way to do it." Sherlock paused a moment, still reeling slightly.

"Yes, of course. My suicide."

He moved to the ledge and looked to the ground below. Moriarty joined him there but there was no risk of the man pushing him. No, he wanted Sherlock to do it. It had to be him. He wouldn't mind pushing the man himself if it would solve it all but there was much more to it all. Too much. There were no simple solutions. Not anymore. It was still extremely tempting. The man would probably laugh the whole way down. One way to find out.

He yanked Moriarty by the collar and pushed him towards the ledge. A slip of the hand and he would go tumbling over. He held on tight and just held him there. Moriarty's eyes flashed and he grinned in a way no one in their right mind should.

"You're insane." Sherlock said, seeing no fear or concern. Only interest and glee.

"You're just getting that now?" Sherlock scowled at the mock, pushing him further. The consulting criminal just spread his arms out wide, at Sherlock's complete mercy.

"Okay, let me give you a little extra incentive." The happy voice turned savage and a vicious smile broke his face. "Your friends will die if you don't."

It was expected but Sherlock still felt his heart go cold. He had to play along though. Had to know just who were the targets.

"John…L." He whispered, putting fear into it.

"Not just them."

"Mrs. Hudson...Lestrade." He stopped there, gauging. Did he…?

"Four bullets. Four gunmen. Four victims. There's no stopping them now."

Moriarty delighted in the fear and horror on Sherlock's face. He didn't see his relief buried deep. He had missed one. The plan could still work.

"Unless my people see you jump."

Sherlock brought him back from the ledge and let him go. The man continued to boast but Sherlock took the moment to send a quick text to Mycroft while his back was turned. He got a response immediately.

He had all the components now. Everything was in place. It was Sherlock's turn to have the final play.

He let the triumph out. The laugh escalated without his consent but it worked. Moriarty whirled around, scowling. He walked right into his trap. It was easy to get under his skin this time. He was a kindred spirit after all. They both had the same gift and suffered for it. Sherlock knew just what to say.

"I am you. Prepared to do anything; prepared to burn; prepared to do what ordinary people won't do. You want me to shake hands with you in hell? I shall not disappoint you. I may be on the side of the angels, but don't think for one second that I am one of them."

He wasn't prepared for it. Didn't fully expect it. He jumped back as the trigger was pulled. He could only stare as blood pooled around Moriarty's head. Of course he would take away Sherlock's chance to use him to stop the snipers. He didn't hesitate in the slightest and he went with a smile. The man was dead but there was still so much to do.

John was right on time. Of course, he would have come running, rushing to protect and support him. He was a true friend. He didn't deserve what was to come but Sherlock had no choice.

"I know you believed in me John. I'm sorry. You shouldn't have."

It was all part of the plan but the tears turned genuine. If this went wrong… If he never came back…

He wished he could have said what he really wanted to.

"Tell L…tell him I'm sorry. He doesn't want to be me. He doesn't want to be a fraud. He can be so much more than I ever was."

To John…to L…to everyone. He wanted them all to know how much he…

It was hard to drop the phone. He wanted to keep the moment forever, as fake as it was. This might be the last time and even if it wasn't, it could be years before he saw them again. Saw John again. He could hear him screaming but he still tipped forward. Either way, he would be finishing it.

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Mrs. Hudson was fine. It was a lie to get Sherlock alone. He knew. He let them go. He went to face him alone. John had rushed off to join Sherlock while L was forced to stay behind.

He wasn't there. He didn't see it. He couldn't say whether it was all real or not; whether there was a trick to it. He didn't even hear it from John. The man was too…broken to say it. Like it being unspoken was the last thing holding him together; the last thread of denial he could hold on to. Whatever John did or didn't see, it was enough. The absolute devastation and heartbreak permanently etched into his face, joining the new wrinkles, was a constant reminder of how grateful he should feel that he hadn't seen it. He wasn't sure he could handle the sight either, fake or not. Just imagining it was too much.

It couldn't have been real. It wasn't true. It was part of the plan, wasn't it? Sherlock said he would do whatever he had to. That's why Mycroft stayed away. He wasn't isolating himself in his grief. He knew L would see his lack of mourning. That had to be it. L refused to accept any other answer.

L clung on to the unknown plan just as John clung to his denial. He clung even when John stopped. The doctor's tears that he tried so hard to hide just made L all the more stubborn. Sherlock wouldn't do that to John. He wouldn't leave him like this. He had to be out there. He just had to wait. John needed him. Even if the doctor didn't always listen when he said Sherlock was coming back, L knew his heart hadn't given up. Not completely. It might prolong the pain but L refused to stop believing. He wouldn't stop even if it took years.

He believed in Sherlock Holmes.

 **Author Note: So what did you all think? It was fun to write this chapter. It was especially interesting to write the roof scene, knowing it is all part of a plan. Hope all my original moments work.**

 **Please Review. Please Please Please. I got so little feedback last chapter. It hurts my little heart T-T**


	11. The Unusual Reunion

**Author Note: I know this chapter is a lot shorter than my usual but since I'm not using the episodes any more they are going to be a lot shorter. At this point, I think there are only going to be a couple more chapters. We'll see if that changes or not.**

 **Also...it was two years ago today that I first posted this story. WOW! I didn't plan that at all. The years sure fly by, don't they?**

 **Warning: One last spoiler for series 3**

 **Disclaimer:** **Death Note and its characters belong to Tsugumi Ohba while Sherlock and its characters belong to Arthur Conan Doyle, Mark Gatiss and Steven Mofatt**

Chapter 11: The Unusual Reunion

"So…the caretaker poisoned him?"

"Yes. He increased the dosage of his medicine over a period of time and that is what caused his heart failure."

"Huh. If you're sure…"

"The motive was revenge. They shared some connection before becoming patient and caretaker. Look into their past history and you'll find what you need."

"Alright. I'll do that. Thanks for the help."

"Hmmm." There was a long pause and he knew just what was coming.

"…Is he…?" Lestrade trailed off. There was no real need to ask. L turned away, ready to head back to Baker Street.

"L…" Lestrade started to call after him but L didn't stop. He trudged on, heading for the main street. He slowed just long enough for his tag along to catch up. The man had kept quiet while L worked the case but as always he couldn't contain his amazement for long.

"Wow. All that from the creases and stains in his shirt. Amazing." Anderson praised, mostly to himself. L blocked him out, used to the man's manic ramblings.

It wasn't amazing, not really. Sherlock would have gotten so much more. Would have solved it faster.

L gritted his teeth but didn't let his blank expression falter as they passed some officers. There it was again. The lingering looks, full of pity and sadness. He could feel them boring into his back, burrowing under his skin and eating away at him.

 _Stop it!_

He wanted to yell and scream. They didn't understand. He didn't need it. None of it. He was fine. Sherlock wasn't dead. He wasn't deluding himself. He knew he was out there. He was certain.

The former forensic agent thought the same but it wasn't true faith that drove him but guilt. He didn't want it to be true. He didn't want to be one of the causes of Sherlock's death. L didn't blame the man. The man blamed himself enough. It cost him his job and some of his sanity. He was loyal though, seeing L as Sherlock's legacy and substitute while the man was off in the world doing whatever the man theorized. L knew that he was safe with him. Lestrade couldn't always be there with him after all. The man still had a job to do and L wasn't going to tempt fate by wandering London alone. The wrongness never went away though.

"Isn't that…?"

The incomplete question broke through his thoughts. L looked up from the sidewalk to follow Anderson's gaze. His feet slowed to a stop without his consent but he barely noticed. He stared a moment then turned away, continuing on. He could hear the question forming in Anderson's head but he just sped up before he could ask it. The man scrambled after him, no choice but to follow.

The sight of John's solemn figure on the park bench wouldn't leave his head though. It was a familiar sight and yet it was becoming more and more rare. The pain in his eyes told him enough. The doctor wouldn't be home again tonight. It didn't even hurt anymore. He was used to it and he didn't blame him.

John had followed him on cases in the beginning. He didn't really want to but he did for L's sake. The proud smile would always turn sad. Every time he spotted the scarf and every time people stared at L in awe while he solved a case. L had hated it but let John think he didn't notice. He didn't have to pretend for long anyway. It was a short time before he caught only little glances of the doctor during the day and sometimes not even that.

The flat was so quiet without the clinking of beakers and the boiling of the kettle. There was no longer any wafting tunes from the violin or soft typing from the laptop. Both were left abandoned. Even those moments when John was in the flat, it was dead silent. At least there wasn't the clacking of a cane. There was a good long while when it seemed John was going to need it again. However, he pushed on and the limp in his step subsided. L wondered whether it was his refusal to show his grief to others that urged him on in that battle.

The doctor's absence was almost preferable in a way. This way he wouldn't have to see the grief he fought so hard to contain. John always turned away everyone in his usual polite, distant way and L was no exception. He couldn't really help even though he wanted to.

He got used to it all. The distance, the solitude, the frustration and the helplessness. He even got used to the stares and how he never saw Mrs. Hudson's brightest smile. It all fell away and he was left feeling empty. He wondered when was the last time he smiled but the same could be said of John. He didn't stop though. He kept taking on whatever cases came his way. There were still people desperate enough to rely on a child and Lestrade slipped him a small case or two.

The solemn, pained look on the inspector's face no longer got to him but that didn't stop it from coming back. Everyone he knew shared that look around him. It was something L couldn't help. Being so similar to the consulting detective was once something good, though some would argue otherwise, and it wasn't about to change.

It was impossible for John to be oblivious to the distance forming between him and L. It was all his fault really. He still cared for the boy immensely but…

It was just too much at times. That spark of genius in his eyes and the flash of dark hair as he passed by that always had him turning to look, hoping to see dark curls and sharp cheekbones. The intelligent monotone and his quirks, though different, brought memories of gunshots, experiments and rants to mind. It felt like the familiar once homely walls were crowding in on him, sucking the breath from lungs that already ached from the sobs he buried deep. He lost count of the times he nearly moved somewhere else and part of him wondered whether he would have even taken L with him. He was disgusted with himself but that didn't change anything either. Nothing changed for a good long while.

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It was about a year and a half after that awful day that the new normalcy shifted. John started to change. Healed might have been pushing it but he started to look softer and not from sorrow. L soon learned why when John introduced him to Mary Morstan. He was glad to finally see John's smile though it still wasn't as bright as it could be. He saw instantly what John saw in her. She was pretty and nice but it was the brilliance that drew him in. The sharp mind that reminded him of the one that he truly longed for and still missed with all his heart. He must have thought this woman was the key to moving on as much as he could. L sat there and observed her, doing just what Sherlock would have done.

The way she held herself was casual, showing a lot of confidence in what was supposed to be a somewhat nerve-wracking situation. That wasn't necessarily abnormal given how Sherlock was. She moved about the room too easily though, as if she had been there before. Even L sometimes bumped into things at the flat but she seemed aware of every little thing. She didn't trip over the rug, didn't knock her knees on the table or chairs or even displace anything.

Beyond all that, knowing John, there had to be something more to her. John tried but he just couldn't settle for someone ordinary. That's why he was Sherlock's best friend. The thrilling life they lived and loved wouldn't let him settle for the ordinary for long. Mary had held his attention for some time. There was something there and he had a good idea just what it was. It was a shame really but there wasn't much of L left to really feel the regret. He supposed he should've been concerned about that.

"Mrs. Hudson told me she made some snacks for us. I'll be right back." John said, heading for the stairs. L waited a second then finally dropped his friendly air.

"I don't know what you want but it would be best that you left John alone." Mary's smile fell.

"What are you-?"

"You're not who you say you are. I won't pry or even mention it unless I have to. John is grieving. I won't let you use that to your advantage."

Mary stood up and dropped the act. L saw in the way she held herself that she was really dangerous, more so than Irene Adler. However, she was rational enough to know that it would be foolish to do anything to him.

"My what a perceptive child you are."

"I learned from the best."

"Yes, I heard about this Sherlock Holmes."

"Then you know that John won't dismiss me so easily if I mention it and even if he does, I can get others involved."

"Mycroft Holmes, you mean." She was proud of how much she knew and L could admit it was impressive.

"You know a lot. Makes me wonder why you'd risk going for John."

"Would you believe me if I told you I simply liked him?"

"Perhaps…but even so-"

"You still won't leave me be?"

"No."

"Very protective, aren't you?"

"Nothing wrong with that." Mary smiled at that but didn't drop her guard. She paused for a moment.

"You won't mention anything if I simply leave?"

"As long as you don't give me a reason to."

"Don't worry. I've started over. You won't hear from me again." L nodded, satisfied.

"Be gentle, please."

"Of course. Dear John deserves as such."

Thankfully, it was very early in John and Mary's relationship so John wasn't hurt too bad when Mary faked a family emergency that led to her moving to another part of the country. John didn't have a full relapse either, which was a relief to everyone. He was able to spend time with L again.

It was never for too long or anything really meaningful. They never really talked and L was sure that neither was making much of a difference for the other. Still, he was there. It was something L was starting to think wouldn't happen again. It was nice but…not as moving as it should have been. Perhaps, John wasn't the only one that needed healing after all. Such concerns were often dismissed or perhaps he just couldn't work up enough worry to do something about them. Whatever the case, they continued on, falling into a new normalcy. This time it lasted even shorter than the last one.

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It had seemed like such an average day when he saw him. Nothing hinted that such a momentous event was going to occur and yet it did. L couldn't even dismiss it as him seeing things. He knew it was real. He wasn't alone and John clearly saw him too when the doctor finally stopped to look.

Honestly, L was expecting some grand entrance. Something dramatic to bring back all the adrenaline of the old days. A sudden rescue or the man appearing out of thin air to solve a major crime at the last second when no one else could. Or maybe even just a disguise to test L and see if he would spot him. Instead they find him sitting on a bench in the park. He had clearly been waiting for them. It wasn't even a question how he knew they would be there.

Sherlock stood up to meet them but John couldn't seem to move. Sherlock spared L a lingering glance but he couldn't keep his eyes off John for long. He took in the doctor's face with eager eyes, face softening with warmth and fondness. The weariness that hung from his shoulders slipped away as he was finally reunited with his precious friend.

"Hello John."

Nobody moved for what felt like an eternity then…

"You bastard!"

John yelled, punching his not dead friend in the face. Caught off guard, Sherlock hit the ground hard. The detective tensed as John followed him down, anticipating another punch. His breath was knocked out of him as the man collided with his chest. He sat stunned as John hugged him tightly while straddling him.

"All this time you were alive and you never-" His voice choked off but Sherlock couldn't see his face to confirm whether he was actually crying or just holding it in like he always did. John clearly understood what it meant that Sherlock had faked his death but that didn't make it okay in the slightest.

"How could you go off on your own like that? I thought we were…we were friends."

"I was trying to keep you safe." Sherlock's voice was almost too soft to hear but John was close enough.

"So it's only okay if it's just your life at risk?" Some of the anger came back but John didn't act on it and it didn't last long.

"No, Sherlock, it's not. You could have died out there and I never would have known how or when." John gritted his teeth, clearly pained by the thought.

"I never want you putting your life at risk without me." Sherlock went to protest.

"We can watch each other's back like before…please Sherlock." He hugged him tighter. "I can't go through that again. I can't lose you."

The fact that John was admitting such a thing so easily really hammered in how serious he was, how devastated he had been. Sherlock carefully placed a hand on the doctor's back and caught L's gaze.

The boy's expression was blank but there was a faint spark of relief in his eyes. He had already heard from Mycroft that L firmly believed he was alive but even then it certainly wasn't the reaction he was expecting. It concerned him but he focused on John for the moment. It didn't look like the doctor was going to be letting go for some time. Sherlock didn't mind in the slightest. He wrapped his arm around him and relished the contact and warmth. He was never really one for physical contact but after all the beatings and torture…a simple hug soothed him to the very depths of his being.

John was still furious with Sherlock no matter how relieved and beyond overjoyed he was to see him. L was surprised he didn't kick him out of Baker Street for a bit. Instead, they made the journey back together. Their recent, long separation was clear to anyone in their closeness even with the lingering tension. They barely left room for their arms with how close they walked, as if they couldn't bear to be apart any longer. He almost expected them to trip over each other or even link arms. It would have been quite the sight to be sure.

Mrs. Hudson screamed when she saw Sherlock but the tears were of pure joy. She hugged him with all her might. Sherlock complained about it but no one bought it for a second. They all let him though, taking in the sight of him and the sound of his voice. Sherlock wanted to go right into explaining what happened with Moriarty on the roof but John wasn't quite ready for it yet. It made sense really. There was only so much the doctor could take and seeing Sherlock alive and well was more than enough.

It was early evening but John was emotionally exhausted so they retired for the night though John was reluctant to part with his friend. Sherlock's room had been left undisturbed. Mrs. Hudson wouldn't even go in there to dust so there was quite the buildup. Sherlock opted to stay on the couch that night and he did intend to use it. He put on a front for John but he was actually rather exhausted himself. He was still recovering from all that he went through. It really shouldn't have been a surprise then that his sleep was troubled and short.

Sherlock jerked awake in the middle of the night, panting and sweating. It seemed that particular memory was resilient to his deletion. He'd have to work harder with it. His still pounding heart jumped when he saw L watching him. The boy was crouching on the coffee table much like a gargoyle, staring unblinking at him with a thumb resting against his lips.

It was still rather jarring to see him again, to see how he had grown while he was gone. He was taller of course and was still rather pale. His face was starting to lose some of its roundness, starting its journey towards mature and grown up. The bags under his eyes were much darker and his hunch was more pronounced. John must have neglected his job of making sure L slept and sat properly.

Sherlock frowned at that, not liking the implications. The boy wasn't skin and bones though. It was a relief that he hadn't starved, which would have been impossible with Mrs. Hudson around and L's own ability to take care of himself. Sherlock still hated what he saw. The evidence of John's pain and one of the consequences of Sherlock's actions.

"Are you taking care of them?" L finally spoke. His voice was quiet, which was appropriate for that time of night. He didn't question the nightmare Sherlock clearly had and he showed no surprise.

"Of what?" Sherlock asked, sitting up.

"Your injuries. If you won't let John know then you have to take care of them yourself."

Sherlock stared, speech escaping him for a moment. L silently looked him over. Sherlock understood then what it felt like to be under his own piercing stare. He didn't doubt that the boy saw everything. The signs of torture and trauma. He could hide them from John but it was too late to hide from L. The boy really had grown, hadn't he? He was both impressed and ashamed. He didn't want either to see or know what he had been through.

"I won't tell John." L said, cutting into his thoughts as if he were a mind reader. He supposed in a way he was, though he always hated that comparison.

The boy stared coolly at him, taking everything in. Then finally his expression softened. Sherlock felt his heart ease, grateful to see it. He understood to a degree. Being surrounded by such grief must have been overwhelming, especially since it was expected for the boy to match it. It must have been so isolating. He didn't blame him for retreating into himself and getting lost.

Sherlock didn't address it right then. He knew L was aware. It might take time but…

He smiled and reached out. L didn't react but didn't pull away either when Sherlock ran his fingers through that still unruly hair. It was a comforting sensation that he hadn't even known he missed.

"How about a game of chess?"

It was still raw underneath but they fell back into a sort of normalcy seemingly unconsciously. John still had moments where he just had to stand and breath, as if he had to stop himself from unraveling at the seams once more. Sherlock would silently watch the doctor pull himself together bit by bit. He never said a word; he simply soaked up the sight of it all. He was responsible. He had to face it. He had to see just how much he had hurt John..

L learned that Molly had helped Sherlock fake his death. He wasn't exactly surprised but hadn't really gone out of his way to think about her enough to deduce it either. The poor woman clearly expected some kind of retribution from him and John for keeping it a secret.

John felt some of the anger come back when he learned she knew Sherlock was alive while he couldn't know. He didn't let himself be irrational about it so he kept it to himself and told her there was nothing to forgive. Whether she believed him or not was another thing. She always was hard on herself.

Sherlock started taking up cases again almost immediately. It was just the sort of thing L expected from him. Despite all they had went through, Sherlock just wasn't the type to sit around. It helped that Lestrade took his return so well. Sherlock certainly hadn't been expecting the hug and seem too shocked to refuse it. John was unable to jump right back into cases just yet. Sherlock didn't push him. He would give him a sad stare while the doctor's back was turned then leave.

L had no issue tagging along. Sherlock had been appalled when he learned that L had been stuck with Anderson of all people. The change in the man gave him pause but, even so, he wouldn't let the man tag-along, at least not officially. If the man happened to be there at a crime scene, Sherlock wasn't going to send him away but he wouldn't tolerate him for long if he got annoying. L felt excitement bloom in his chest, as much as he was able to. It was time for L to show Sherlock what he was capable of.

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"Why couldn't you just listen to me?"

"And let him get away?"

"I'm sure catching him was worth drowning yourself."

"I hardly drowned, John."

"Luckily. You jumped off a bloody bridge."

"He would have gotten away."

"Better than you catching pneumonia. Lestrade would have found him later."

"He-"

"Shut up and eat your soup."

John's voice was stern but there was such love and fondness in eyes. It was like it had never happened. Those two years were barely a memory anymore. They no longer hesitated to tease and joke with each other like they used to. It was something L didn't fully realize he missed until that moment. He watched John practically smother Sherlock with a large, fluffy towel as he tried to get the detective to eat his soup. Sherlock wasn't cooperating, making a fuss over the treatment.

"I'm not a baby to be coddled, John."

"I know many people who would disagree."

There was a stirring in L's chest. It grew and grew until laughter bubbled up from the pit and poured out uncontrollably. Tears soon followed it. The laughter and tears joined together, making a real mess. It seemed never ending and was beyond late but he felt so much lighter now that it was all finally coming out. John and Sherlock said nothing. They let him cry with soft looks on their faces. Soon they moved to him as if pulled by a string. The tears fell harder as he felt their warmth by his sides. Then he felt hands on his head and back.

It was real. It was good. It was how it was supposed to be.

 **Author Note: I struggled a lot with the chapter at some parts, so much so I feel mentally drained, so I couldn't think of anything else to write and that was the perfect ending for it so sorry if it felt too short or lacking.**

 **I might repost the chapter if I'm hit with a brilliant idea so be on the look out for that.**

 **I like Mary in the show but at the same time I don't like how she got in the way of the two. She did try to help them maintain how they were so points to her for that :)**

 **But I still think L wouldn't let a former assassin stay with John. Lot of risk comes with that.**

 **Also I don't know how i feel about all the uses of "normalcy" in this. Maybe I'll change that later. I didn't want to sit on the chapter any longer without posting it.**

 **I like how the reunion was unusual because it was so normal :D**

 **Please Review.**


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